Dead Like Us
by Wolf-of-Words
Summary: [AU] Once upon a time lived Allen Walker. Once upon a time he died. And once upon a time he became a grim reaper.
1. The Boy Who Died

_Summary:_ (AU) Once upon a time lived Allen Walker. Once upon a time he died. And once upon a time he became a grim reaper.

_(Relatively) In-Depth Summary:_ Allen Walker considered himself a relatively normal fifteen-year-old boy-- a high school sophomore by day and a part-time worker by night. Allen finally thought his life was turning around. But Death had other ideas. After his untimely (and rather unorthodox) death, Allen discovers that the afterlife is not at all what he had expected, and finds himself in the company of other half-dead walkers; the Exorcists, a small group of undead souls who have gained back corporeal bodies whose job it is to reap the living's souls before they die and guide them to their final destination. They welcome Allen into the world of the undead, and into their seemingly morbid line of work-- grim reaping.

_Author's Notes:_ ...Yes. I am actually trying my hand at a multi-chapter fanfiction. And will desperately be trying to keep it alive. This is an AU, and takes place in the "present" time.

The idea of this fic came from a Dead Like Me-watching session, and then was meshed with my D.Gray-Man obsession. Dead Like Me is a Showtime series that may possibly be the most clever series that ever came onto television. (Until it was cancelled.) So-- this fanfiction is and will be heavily influenced by Dead Like Me. I do not take _full_ possession of the ideas-- I am not planning on taking plots or dialouge from the show. (With a few exceptions to get this fic on its feet.) However-- I do take credit for this idea and the concepts within it. I will try to make this fic as different from the show as possible, besides the main idea.

I am sorry if I offend anybody, seeing as how Dead Like Me is a humor series, and is much more successful at doing the humor in death than I. (xD) But I will most definitely try to put some humor in here, and am going to try my hardest to make it funny. :D

Special thaks to Otter-chan who pushed me to post this. :D

I do not own D.Gray-Man or Dead Like Me, (pshaw!) but I do own this plot and this wonderfully warped idea. Thank you. I hope you enjoy. I welcome reveiws.

_((Edit: 3-24-08.))_

oxo

--Dead Like Us--

Chapter One:

_The Boy Who Died..._

oxoxoxoxo

_Let's hear a story. Not _the_ story, mind you, just _a _story. _

_Once upon a time (doesn't it always go like that?), God (insert other being here accordingly) was busy creating the world. It's a lot of work creating the world, and so God gave Toad a clay jar containing Death, thinking that Toad, being the wonderfully responsible creature he was, could take it off his hands for a while. Toad was overjoyed to have such a responsibility, and gladly took it, oblivious to the fact that he was now the fall-back guy on the whole death thing. He agreed to keep it safe._

_But then Frog came along. And Frog said, "Let me hold Death." Or whatever it's called._

_Toad was dubious, but said, "Alright, but only for a second," and handed Frog the jar. _

_Frog was so happy that he began juggling the jar containing Death from hand to hand, much to Toad's chagrin. "No! Stop!" said Toad, but it was too late. The clay jar fell with a crash, Frog fled, and Toad was left with the blame. Death had been unleashed upon the world, and from then on, all living things had to die. _

_So there you have it. The mystery of death revealed. _

_Of course, it's never that easy._

_In truth, Death, in all its black-clad inevitable glory, is much more complicated, and works in curious ways (if you're into that sort of thing). _

_Like a tornado-- every time one rips through some small poor town, and you see those photos of the small poor houses, blown through and obliterated as if they were nothing at all, and then there are the houses right next door or right across the way completely untouched and carrying on as normal. _

_And you sit there and go (don't deny it), "Damn, I'm glad that wasn't me." _

_Until it is._

-oxoxoxoxo-

In the street now, with the white hair and the matching button-up shirt-- that's Allen Walker. He's just died. And Allen Walker wondered what was so different about today. The answer was; nothing. But as he stood over his own body, he knew _something_ had to have gone wrong. Terribly wrong.

The day was young when he had awoken not ten hours prior, the sun blinding in the early morning sky. As per usual, he was late for school. (He never considered himself chronically late, just never early.)

Racing down three flights of stairs with homework, keys, and whatever else he thought of stuffing into his raggedy old backpack, he only slowed only to wave his manager goodbye-- a strange red-haired man who never failed to obstruct one side of his face, whether with a hat or otherwise. Allen had known the eccentric man ever since he moved into the place, and, quite frankly, he was terrified of him.

Said manager yelled something about the rent, to which Allen hastily replied, "Tomorrow! I promise!" and thanked him quickly for being so patient with him. It was always a good idea.

With breakfast in his mouth (toaster waffles today, if memory served him), he was in school grounds within fifteen minutes.

School was uneventful. Even more less-than-memorable for the fifteen-year-old high school sophomore because summer was barely a month away. A couple of tests (all well-rehearsed for) and a movie in history was all he needed to do to keep the day moving along.

After school came work, which was included picking up his last check from the grocery store. He was never very fond of working there.

His bus stop (as he had no other form of transportation) was not too far from the grocery store, and sat in front of the history museum, which was rather small and, quite frankly, losing profits. A banner shouted from the arched entrance, "NEW! Dinosaur exhibit!", and when coupled with the impressive tyrannosaurus rex skeleton that stood out in the courtyard, made for an enticing visit.

Allen should have paid more attention to that T-rex.

As he stood at the bus stop before the busy intersection-- the bus always came at six-'o-seven on the dot-- he noticed someone he had never seen there before. It was getting dark, and his usual six-'o-seven passengers were all there-- the nice old lady with the tweed coat that smelled like cat food, the hobo who smelled worse, and the punk teen who Allen thought just rode the bus because he was too lazy to walk, but there was also someone else; a man, sharply dressed in formal attire, which was odd for that part of the city.

Only now does Allen remember the slightly awkward look of the man, the pale yellow paper protruding from his half-closed fists, the slicked-back hair that only let a strand or two fall back into his face. The way he smelled-- in retrospect, like death. Allen should have been more cautious of the man, but he wasn't (for Allen was a very trusting person).

He caught Allen's eye, and the boy blinked and turned his gaze downwards, embarrassed that he had been caught staring.

Instead of chastising the boy, the man offered a small smile his way. To Allen's surpirse, he spoke. "Excuse me, do you have the time? I seem to have..." he glanced at his wrist, his eyes gravitating towards the punky teen. "Er-- _misplaced_ my watch."

"Uh, sure," said Allen, and checked his digital watch (Wal-Mart brand), making sure to keep his left hand hidden in sleeve. He had gotten quite skilled at hiding his deformity, and was going to keep it that way. "I have five minutes to six."

"Thank you," the man said, and turned his attention back to the yellow piece of paper.

The would-be passengers waited in silence. The old lady knitted herself another tweed coat, the hobo rocked on his heels to the punk's blasting music, and Allen ran a mental to-do list through his head.

"May I...ask you your name?" It was the man again, at six-'o-four, talking to Allen.

"Huh...?" Allen blinked, his white hair blowing across his face along with the breeze. He had grown it out to cover the scar that ran down the left side of his face. "Ah...I'm Allen."

It was getting cold. The wind blew stronger, and a creak came from the skeleton of the enormous T-rex, standing as still as ever outside the museum.

"What's your..._last_ name?" the man asked, and gave him a look that was almost pleading him not to answer.

Allen should have known to be suspicious then, but he didn't and he wasn't, and answered innocently, "Walker."

"Ah...I see," The man looked grave, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I...really must be going now," he said suddenly, and got up to walk away.

As the man brushed past him, his hand lingered ever-so-subtly longer on Allen's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry about this..." He whispered, so quietly that Allen almost didn't hear him over the traffic noises.

A shockwave ran through the boy's body, and it was as if cold water ran through Allen's veins. He turned to catch the man's fading back, curious as to why he was apologizing, but he had already disappeared into the busy sidewalk of people.

"W-wait!" he shouted after him, and pushed through the sidewalk to follow him. There wasn't as much as a glimpse of black-- it was as if the man had vanished into thin air.

A resounding crack rent the air, loud and nearby.

Allen jerked his head around, trying to find the source of the noise, and then came an ominous rumbling.

Allen should have known better.

He knew the museum's funds were depleting, but he never would've guessed that the establishment's manager was all but the stingiest of penny-pinchers, and that he neglected to pay someone to do maintenance on the poor T-rex skeleton. He didn't know that the tyrannosaurus model was second-hand and not very stable on its boney legs, or that the gusts of winds picked away at its support. So when a curious visiting child merely touched the poor thing, it had collapsed on itself, and its pieces were to roll down the steep steps leading to the entrance.

Allen didn't know.

But it did all of this, and even if Allen never knew, the skull of a giant prehistoric creature came tearing down those steep steps straight at him, like some deadly spinning buzz saw.

Allen never saw the pale gray of Death's chariot come charging at him in the form of a massive off-white skull until it was on the last step of the staircase, and he could have run right then, but his brain had froze on the spot and then--

"Oh--"

His last conscience thought was, to the extent of his memory, _Why does it have to be a dinosaur?_

Death doesn't arrive on black wings or in a burst of bright light like they say in the movies. No...It was more like the eject button on a falling jet as the pilot bailed. Allen felt no pain, he saw no light, and his life didn't flash before his very eyes, but instead he felt a jerk from somewhere of the vicinity of his heart, and suddenly he was watching the massive skull overtake his own body.

He was a third party, looking through the eyes of someone else, and he didn't like it.

But that was where Allen had found himself now, whether he liked it or not.

People screamed and rushed past him-- no, _through_ him-- to his physical body. Really, there was nothing to see-- the skull had slowed to a stop in the street, halting all traffic, and he couldn't really make out himself in the dust kicked up..._oh wait._

It was strange. There was a body in the street but it couldn't be him, it _wasn't_ him, but it had his white hair, and his backpack lay in the street, too, all his belongings strewn about...

_It was him._

The scene slowed to a crawl; mothers shielded their children from the scene, and vendors selling their wares on the street craned their necks to get a better look. Business men in suits pulled out their sleek cell phones and dialed 9-1-1.

And it hit him-- _dead_. He was dead. He was fifteen, and he was dead. He was dead and fifteen andthiswasn'thappening_hewasdead_.

If you had told Allen that he was to die today at six-'o-six p.m. that morning, he would have given you a kind smile and, in his polite way, said that he really must get going now and that you really shouldn't worry about him.

But you would have been right.

The words hit him like a ton of bricks--_dead?_-- and suddenly he found he could not look at the scene. There was a hitch in his breath-- _how could he be breathing?_-- and his world began to spin dangerously. In the distance, he could hear sirens, coming for him, no doubt, and he felt weak.

He had just been killed by a prehistoric dinosaur. A _dinosaur_. That had died _tens of millions of years_ before.

He was never a fan of irony, but this crossed the line.

People continued to rush through him, and he was no more than a wisp of essence-of-Allen, and that was when he began to panic. He paced frantically, his see-through hand to his see-through head. _This could not be happening_.

There was debris in the sidewalk; concrete, dinosaur bone fragments-- and Allen's legs phased through them all as he walked to no where in particular. His unsteady feet took him around in a circle, and no one seemed to notice that the soul of the boy who had just died still wondered the streets, but then again, why would they? His ethereal hands and legs were shaking, his head was a fog-- _he was dead_, and...

"There you are," called a voice, but Allen just assumed it wasn't meant for him, seeing as how he was, after all, _dead._

"Hey! Hey, dead-guy-walking!"

Allen was distracted from his dazed pacing to see two people walking towards him. He blinked, confused. They couldn't possibly be talking to him...could they?

"Sorry I'm a bit late," smiled a man, dressed in what could only be called comfort clothes. He shifted his glasses-- which were slightly askew-- on his nose. A girl in two pigtails stood beside the man. She wore a pale-colored blouse and a faint smile. "I just got word. Had to rush over here from downtown-- it's a long way."

They were calm. Too calm for the hectic scene before them-- the sirens howling, the blaring lights, the dark blood-- and they stood out, but no one seemed to notice them at all.

Allen's voice shook as he spoke, still disbelieving. "H-huh?"

"Lucky Suman reaped you at the bus station..." the stranger ignored Allen's question, instead motioning to the skull in the street. "That looks nasty."

"Wha--w-what?" Allen sputtered. His death was _nasty_. Thank you, Mr. Stranger-Man, for that enlightening observance. You weren't just crushed by a skull, now, were you?

"Brother..." the girl said in a quiet voice. "Try to be a little more considerate."

The man shrugged and the girl moved her head in an expression of slight annoyance while Allen merely goggled at the pair.

"Who...who _are_ you?" he asked, and though he didn't mean it to, it was more of a demand. But when your life's just been snuffed out like a candle-- _by a dinosaur, no less!_--, you tend to be a little out-of sorts.

They looked to him, and the man offered another smile. "We have the unfortunate distinction of being called 'grim reapers'-- though we have many other names. And we've come to collect your soul."

"Grim...Reapers?" Allen asked.

"That's right, kiddo," he responded. "You are dead."

"I...I know that-- I know that I--" Allen cut off; maybe he couldn't say it out loud. His brow furrowed, and his eyes flicked left and right, trying to work out a coherent thought-- a loophole that might prove he was alive and breathing. "But...but I didn't_ feel _anything..."

"We, ah, do that as a courtesy for violent deaths like yours," offered the girl, and made a sympathetic face.

"But...but I didn't _want_ to die," Allen said desperately, only slightly hysterical. So many things he wanted to do-- opportunities missed, paths left untaken, his rent...

_Oh, why did it have to be a dinosaur?_

"No one really wants to...except suicides, and they're very unpleasant...We reap your soul before you die-- that way everything is much less.._.traumatic_," The girl was comforting in an odd way, and her words calmed Allen a little. "Remember that man? The one who had asked you your name?"

Allen nodded slowly, his breathing slowing now, and thought back to the sensation, like a chill creeping down his spine.

"He was a reaper. He took out your soul before you died. And right now, all you are is spirit. No one but us can see you," The girl seemed well-rehearsed in explaining these things.

"I-I'm sorry," Allen said, putting his hand to his forehead again. He had a feeling he was over his head, and this was way too much to process. "But-- _what_? What's this 'reaping' all about?"

"Ah, you needn't worry about that just yet," the man stepped up. "Come along now, we really should clear out..."

They motioned for him to follow as they made their way through the crowd, and Allen was inclined to do so-- where else could he go?

And so Allen took his first steps forward in the afterlife. With one last backwards glance at the scene of his death, he fell in step behind the two, looking quite anxious (though nobody could see except the two who walked before him), occasionally phasing through some person or another.

--End. One.--


	2. And Lived

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed-- it really does help. :3 Sorry for the slight delay, I know I promised a new chappie up by the end of the week, which I did mean to be sooner.

I have to apologize for all of the explaining in this chapter. xD It was necessary.

Some people have asked about pairings; the truth is, I have no idea. xD I'm sure they'll come to me as I write. One thing for certain: no yaoi. I know that there is a very large fanbase for it in this fandom, but I don't write it. (Or read it.) -Tentative- Sorry?

oxo

--Dead Like Us--

Chapter Two:

_...And Lived_

oxoxoxoxo

"Aren't I supposed to be..._going _somewhere?" Allen asked, slightly worried. He wasn't quite sure if he trusted these people with his life (death?) yet.

"Why? You in a hurry?" the man inquired, quite chipper.

"Well, no, but..."

By now, Allen was quite perplexed. This was _not_ how Death was supposed to be-- clad in white and smiling. (Or so he thought.)

It was most definitely night time now, and the city was brightly lit with various neon glowings. Still he followed the two through crowds of people, and he didn't even know their names yet. Come to think of it, Allen didn't even know if grim reapers _had_ names.

Occasionally, the man would stop to say a "pardon me" or an "excuse me" and squeeze past a particularly crowded area (Allen was beginning to like the fact that all he needed to do was phase through people) and, curiously enough, they all complied with a "sorry", or a "certainly". Wasn't Death supposed to be dead?

"Uh...w-where exactly are we going, if you don't mind me asking?" Allen didn't know if grim reapers could condemn you to hell or not or something of the sort (as Allen wasn't quite sure on the subject), so it paid to be polite to those who had the power to kill you and take your soul from your very body.

"Oh, it depends..." the man stopped, and the girl and Allen followed suit.

"Allen Walker" --how did he know his name?-- "first off, welcome to the afterlife." Again, he offered a kind smile, and then the man continued, "I am Komui Lee, and this is Lenalee Lee. Technically, Lenalee's the only reaper here, but I qualify. We're both, ah, _dead_, of sorts."

"If you're dead...how come people can see you? Why can't they see _me_?" Allen said, somewhat incredulous as another person walked right through him and dodged the other two.

"Well...we're _un_dead," said the man whose name was Komui. "Meaning that we have physical bodies and, if we so choose to, we can interact with the living."

"Undead? Like...a zombie?"

Komui laughed, and Lenalee gave a giggle. "Not quite."

Allen furrowed his brow, clearly not understanding.

"You know...? The Grim Reaper?" Allen maintained his perplexed look, and Komui gave up with a laugh. "Lenalee?-- You take over."

"Our job as reapers, or part of it, is to escort you to your next life-- and help you say goodbye to this one," Lenalee explained. "So, where to?"

Allen was taken aback by the question. "Huh?"

"It's your choice. We're the ones who have to take you across, but only you can make amends with this life. You must lay your own soul to rest. So-- where to?"

Allen blinked, looked downwards, and thought--who was there to say goodbye to? His apartment manager? The classmates he hardly knew? He wasn't particularly close to anybody...

Allen couldn't think of anything he wanted to do-- other than be _alive _again, of course. He had gone on in his head about all the things had had left unfinished, and yet...when they had given him the chance to finish them, he could think of nothing.

"I...I guess..." he struggled to think of something-- anything. "I really can't think of anywhere I'd go, or anything I could do..."

Komui blinked. "Nothing?...Well..."

There was a pause, and Allen sighed resolutely. "Where...where do I go now?" If he had to die, he might as well do it with dignity...he gave a brave smile. "Onward and upward?"

"Ah...yes and no..." a sly grin spread across Komui's face. "Onward, not upward."

"What?" Allen's head shot up, and his smile faded. "But...but I don't wanna go to hell!"

Komui blinked, surprised, and Lenalee laughed. "Where in the world did you get that idea?"

It was Allen's turn to blink in surprise. "But...then...where _am_ I going?"

"You, my little friend," Komui smiled and poked Allen's shoulder, strangely solid. "Are going to be a grim reaper."

-oxoxoxoxo-

"So...what?" Allen said, shifting awkwardly in his seat. "Do I get a scythe or a cloak or something?" And then, suddenly more aware of himself, added, "That's...how it goes, right?"

The two undead reapers exchanged amused glances at Allen's question. Lenalee and Komui sat across from Allen in a booth in the small café, menus before them. It was their idea to stop in the café, as Komui declared that it would be easier to talk without the ruckus on the street. The inside of the building was decorated with a nostalgic kind of feel in mind, but only made Allen feel even more out of place.

"Death has evolved with the times, Allen...we haven't done that gig since the 1600's," Komui told the boy in a joking tone. "I suppose we have some explaining to do-- ah!"

The waiter, a tired-looking overworked sort of man, stopped at their table and said, "Can I get you something?" with a notebook in hand.

Komui drum-rolled on the table dramatically and then exclaimed, "Reever! What a coincidence!"

"You come here everyday," The waiter, Reever, said, obviously familiar with the two. "And we're busy today, so hurry it up."

"Oh, so rude, Reever..." Komui handed the menu back to the waiter with an expression of mock sorrow. "I guess I'll have the number four-- eggs instead of bacon, waffles instead of pancakes, and don't forget the _coffee_. Please."

Allen was hungry. True, he ate a lot, and true, he was dead, and therefore was not supposed to eat or be hungry, but he couldn't help himself. He was starving. He hadn't eaten anything since lunch, which had hardly filled up his sometimes seemingly-endless black hole of a stomach. His mouth began to water the minute Komui had started dictating his order.

"I'll just have some orange juice and a fruit bowl, please," smiled Lenalee and she handed him her menu.

Reever took it and scribbled down the orders, and then looked to Allen, who had been staring absently at the menu full of delicious-looking food. "And for you?"

Allen jumped and looked questioningly at Komui, who smiled back. Surprised, he leaned forward and hissed to the undead man, "I thought you said no one could see me!"

"That was before you became a grim reaper," he replied. "Go ahead-- order."

The waiter cleared his throat, and Allen turned to meet him, slouching back into his seat. "I'll...have...what he's having...?" Reever made a sound, scribbled again in his notebook, and promptly walked away.

"Now I am definitely confused..." moaned Allen and laid his head on the table.

"Well... That's normal. I would be more surprised if you weren't...Let's start with this..." Lenalee said with a chuckle, and settled herself in her seat. "Hundreds of thousands of people die every day. Bodies can be taken care of-- but what happens to the souls? Where does your _essence_ go?

"Well, that's where we come in. We 'reapers' make sure that your soul is undamaged when your body dies and escort it into the next life-- wherever that may be."

"You mean, you don't know?"

"Well...no. We've never technically 'crossed over', you see...Traditionally, we're called 'grim reapers', but the Order has another name for us."

"Order?" Allen asked, inquisitive.

"The Black Order-- the system of reapers. They send out the information of who's going to die and when, and we, ah, do the dirty work," the girl shifted slightly. "Their official name for us is the 'Exorcists', but hardly anyone uses it."

"I...I still don't get the 'why me' part... not everyone becomes a reaper or an Exorcist or whatever you call them when they die, right?" Komui nodded, and Allen went on, "And they don't just pick people out randomly, do they?"-- It occurred to Allen that he really didn't know who 'they' were, but continued anyway,-- "So...why me? I'm...nothing special."

"Ah," Komui said, with a strange cryptic tone. "But you are."

Allen gave the other man an odd look, but was distracted by Reever, who had come back with drinks in hand. With a "Your meals are coming out soon," he scooted away to serve the late-night rush, leaving behind coffee and orange juice.

"Now..." Komui purred, reaching for the cream. "Where were we?"

"The whole '_why me_ part of the conversation?" Allen couldn't help being irate.

"Right, right..." Komui dropped three cubes of sugar into his coffee with a disapproving look from Lenalee, gave the liquid three good stirs with his spoon, took a sip, and then used the utensil to point at Allen. "You were chosen by the Innocence."

"The..._what_?"

"The Innocence," he said, and used his spoon again to point to Allen's left hand, taking another sip of his coffee. "You were destined to be an Exorcist from the moment you were born."

Allen gave a confused look.

Komui gave him another calm smile, and put down his coffee. "The Innocence...is what indentifies you as an Exorcist. You were born with it. For the rest of us, the Innocence takes the form of everyday objects-- a treasured toy, an item-- and when we make contact with it, our fates are sealed. When we die, we become Exorcists."

It finally hit Allen, what Komui was talking about 'being born with'-- his left arm, disfigured and blood-red. How did Komui know about that? He had never told anyone. Ever since he was little, Allen had wondered what the cross embedded into the back of his hand was for--but, it the reason he had met Mana...

"The world can't go around full of reapers, though," it was Lenalee's turn now, and her voice brought Allen from his reminiscing. "So when a reaper takes the soul of another to-be reaper-- a person who has made contact with and has been chosen by the Innocence-- the newly-deceased replaces the older Exorcist. You don't know where that is until you make the reap. Needless to say, you might in the job for a while. You took Suman's place, and he was allowed to...move on."

"What does that mean?"

Lenalee shrugged. "I don't know. No one does. As close as we are to death, we still don't know what happens _after_ we die..." she trailed off, and Komui entered.

"It is your fate to be a soldier."

"A soldier of what?" Allen asked, his brow knitting. He wasn't quite sure if he liked where this was heading.

The man shrugged. "Death," he said simply, still smiling, and downed the rest of his coffee.

The two kept throwing around words like 'fate' and 'destiny', but Allen had never once heard the word _choice._ That's probably because he didn't have one. If it _had_ been his choice, he would've rather not have had to die, and he would have rather not had to take souls for a living. But from where he could see, he was stuck either way.

Defeated, he once again slouched into his chair, and the conversation was dropped, though he had a feeling it was far from over and done with. Within five more minutes, the food had arrived, but Allen had lost his appetite. (Which was indeed saying something.)

"Now comes the matter of your lodging," said Komui, who had finished off his own meal and then gone on to pick at Allen's, as Allen no longer had the stomach for it.

"Huh?" Allen's head rose off the table to look the other man in the eye.

"Well...We can't very well have you sleeping on the streets!" Smiled Komui, and it dawned on Allen that these people were very toothy for being the embodiment of death. He continued, "At least, until you get your feet on the ground."

"Brother..." Lenalee leaned in to address her fellow reaper. "He could...stay with me," Komui's disposition altered instantly. He looked horrified at the very thought, and brought his fist down onto the table, catching the attention of several other patrons, but before he could say anything else, Lenalee added, "Just for tonight."

This did not mollify Komui any. "Ab-sol-utely not! My dear, sweet sister, locked up in some apartment room with a boy she hardly knows--"

Komui's outburst would've been comical to Allen on any other occasion, but under the current circumstances and through his hazy mind, all he could say, was, genuinely surprised, "She's your sister?"

Komui stopped his wailing and stared.

He blinked, and Lenalee mirrored him.

There was an uncomfortable silence in which Allen squirmed under the gazes of his fellow reapers, and then Komui patted Lenalee on the back and said happily, "I'll wager you'll be just fine."

Allen merely sat, confounded.

-oxoxoxoxo-

The key clicked in the lock, and Lenalee opened the door to the apartment with a small squeak.

"Be right back," Lenalee said over her shoulder to Allen as she retreated further into the apartment, setting her keys into a dish by the door.

Allen made a noise in acknowledgement and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

The apartment was moderately large, and most of the walls were painted with warmer colors; yellow, orange, and red all gave the effect that it was smaller, but all the more cozy. It was tidy (his own apartment had always been messy and disorganized, no matter how hard he had tried to clean up) and smelled strangely like oranges, but it was warm, and the most inviting place Allen had in been in since his death.

To the left of the entrance was the kitchen, relatively small, but certainly enough space to cook in. Further inside, Allen saw a hallway leading to what was doubtless to be the occupant's bedroom.

Lenalee emerged from the hallway with an armful of blankets.

"Sorry," she walked into the living room, a small space that held a small TV and a loveseat couch and not much else, looking a little frazzled. "My place is really quite small, and...only has one room..." she acquired a slight tinge of red in her cheeks.

The girl draped the blankets over the couch, and Allen, understanding that he was to sleep out there, nodded.

"Thank you," Allen said, eyeing the couch wearily and flashed her a small smile.

"No problem," she said, returning his smile, and once again retreated down the hallway, clicking off the lights as she went. "Let me know if you need anything else."

The newly-undead Allen collapsed into the couch as soon as the door to Lenalee's bedroom clicked shut, pulling the blankets over his head. The couch was comfortable, the blankets drenched in the sleep-inducing scent of oranges, and Allen was terribly tired.

A little part of his mind screamed that this was wrong, all wrong, and that he should run while he still could, but he was _tired_, and these people were kind, if not a little strange...

Perhaps he still held onto the hope that when he awoke, he would be in his own bed, late as usual for school, that all of this would have never happened and he would have never died. He knew it was absurd, really, but still, the hope persisted.

Allen's eyes drooped-- his head swam with visions of Death's scythes and the girl and her brother, of dinosaurs, long dead in their graves, and men in business suits...

Within minutes, Allen was asleep, though it was a fretful sort of slumber.

Lenalee peered out from her room, checking on her temporary roommate, her hair let down from her habitual pig-tails. She let out a sigh, and, even though she knew he was already asleep, gave the boy a sympathetic look.

As she made to close the door, she muttered, "Sweet dreams, Allen...You're going to have quite a road ahead of you..." and extinguished her light, casting the apartment into darkness.

--End. Two.--


	3. Reaper Rules

A/N: I'm still going strong! Rawr!

...But seriously, I'm gonna have to knock it up a notch. xD I'm falling behind. This is the longest I've ever been able to keep a muse alive, and I'd like to thank you guys who've reviewed and faved and alerted this story. x3 Thank you so much! I promise to have some action sometime. And maybe some character interaction.

Keep in mind that I nit-pick my work, so if you happen to go back chapters and find sentences switched around or perhaps a different word, it's just me. xD It'll never be anything major, though, I promise.

On the pairings note of last chapter; they'll come on their own if they do happen, and won't if I don't get around to it. xD Sorry again. I'm indecisive that way.

Another major character shows up in this one, and there's mention of another. Hopefully, I'll be able to do him some justice. Enjoy!

oxo

--Dead Like Us--

Chapter Three:

_Reaper Rules_

oxoxoxoxo

Allen dreamt.

He dreamt of an apartment-- not his, not Lenalee's, but still strangely familiar, and terribly dark. He rocked on the floor-- someone was dead, someone had died...

Shadows danced on the walls, whether they were cast from lights outside or from something else entirely, and a figure emerged from the darkest of them. The shapes on the wall cackled, elongated, flexing their claws, and the figure approached, smiling wide. It offered a hand to him, and he was going to take it...

"Allen..."

He reached, and it spoke, but he could not hear anything more...

"Allen!"

He jumped, adrenaline pumping through his veins, effectively waking him, and the dream was instantly forgotten. Somehow, he ended up on the floor, entangled in a mess of blankets.

Bleary-eyed and confused, he mumbled, "Wha...? Lena...Lenalee?" For a spilt second, he had thought he was back in his own apartment, but then Lenalee and her apartment came into view, and he knew he had no such luck.

The girl smiled. "Sorry. Didn't know that you would jump that high. Did I scare you?"

"_Surprised_," he mumbled groggily and attempted to untangle himself from the blankets.

"Didn't mean to. C'mon," she offered him a hand, and Allen noticed that she was already dressed and ready to leave. "We're meeting Brother at the Komfy Kitchen."

"The wha--?"

He took her hand and they were out the door before he could finish; Allen still dressed in the clothes he wore when he died.

They walked down the hallway and Lenalee pressed the button for the elevator.

"How're you feeling, Allen?" She asked him as the elevator dinged upwards and the sliding doors opened to let them in.

"Okay, I guess," Allen said, rubbing his eyes to rid himself of the lingering sleep.

She smiled back. "I'm sorry. It's a lot to process..."

He sighed and the elevator coasted down to the basement. "Not your fault, Lenalee. You've been nothing but kind to me." He smiled.

Lenalee laughed and tugged him off the elevator as it shuddered to a stop on the ground floor.

-oxoxoxoxo-

It wasn't a long walk back to the little café, but Allen didn't exactly remember the way, as the events of last night proved his memory hazy. But there the café sat, a little more than two blocks down the way. As they entered its cozy building, Komui waved cheerily to them from the same seat they had sat in the night before. Allen waved back.

"How'd ya sleep?" Komui asked, looking up from his notebook he was scribbling something down in as the two joined him at the table.

"Alright..." replied Allen, picking up a menu.

"Didn't get much sleep, eh...?" Komui eyed Allen. "I hope for your sake nothing happened."

Lenalee sighed exasperatedly and Allen blinked rapidly in confusion. "N-no..."

"You haven't been here all night have you, Brother?" asked Lenalee, sitting down across from Allen.

"Oh, no..." he sighed and dropped the subject, opting for his notebook scribbles instead. "Just most of it."

Reever walked past and Komui flagged him down, pointing to his empty mug. "Another cup of coffee, please. And you guys?-- It's on me."

"Oh, I'll have the Number Six-- can I have that with eggs?" Lenalee asked. With an affirmative, the waiter turned to Allen.

"Uh...I'll have a waffle meal, please."

"No problem," he droned, and Reever retreated into the kitchen.

Komui had apparently finished scribbling in his notebook, because he had stuffed it into his bag that sat beside him. From the same bag, he pulled a packet of yellow post-it notes, which Allen eyed curiously. Komui wrote something on one, peeled it off, and then handed it to Lenalee, who glanced down at it, sighed, and pocketed it.

Allen watched the exchange suspiciously, but before he could ask, Reever had returned with the three plates.

Allen was officially starving now. The shock was gone, and his stomach hungered. And those waffles looked delicious.

Komui and Lenalee stared as Allen all but inhaled his 2.99 breakfast.

"Are you, uh, gonna eat that bacon?" He asked Lenalee, dousing his last pancake with the remnants of the syrup (which had been full not five minutes ago). She continued to stare in stunned silence, but shook her head no, and Allen snagged the strips of bacon off her plate.

"Well, what do we do with you today...?" Komui laughed as Allen finished up his meal, and then exclaimed, "Ah! What say you we meet up with the other members of the team?"

Allen gulped the last of his food. "Other...members? You, mean-- there are more of us?"

"Certainly. You don't expect us to reap the entire city by ourselves, do you?"

"There are three other reapers in our jurisdiction," Lenalee counted on her fingers, "Usually, we all meet here for breakfast and assignments, but I think we're a little early this morning."

Lenalee got up from her seat, fished around in her purse, and handed Komui a ten dollar bill to compensate for the meal. "Well, I have an appointment downtown-- _heaven forbid _I miss it."

"You're leaving?" Allen asked.

"Can't miss it." Lenalee smiled, waved the two boys goodbye, and then she was out the door.

"I'll have to catch someone to show you the ropes-- I have somewhere to be myself," Komui said, and flagged the waiter down again for the bill. Then, seeing Allen's face, said grinning, "Oh, don't worry-- we're not all bad."

-oxoxoxoxo-

They weren't walking fifteen minutes on the street when Komui said, "Oh look, here comes one now."

A young man sauntered towards them on the street, hands in his cargo pants-pockets, looking over his shoulder every other step.

"Hey-- Lavi!" called Komui, and the boy jumped in response to his name.

"Oh, Komui," he walked up to them, smiling brightly. "I was just on my way to meet you guys."

Lavi had a very eclectic wardrobe, and that was the first thing Allen noticed about him. On top of his worn brown cargo pants and white long-sleeved shirt, he wore another shorter-sleeved shirt, even though it was nearing summer. His flame-bright hair matched his cheery smile, but the green headband he wore around his head clashed with it. His only visible eye was a curious green; the other was covered with an eye patch. (Not a_ pirate_ eye-patch-- more of a square piece of cloth, but that still wasn't right.)

Lavi had seemed to just notice Allen, who was standing a safe distance away from the two, not knowing what to do with himself.

The older boy peered around Komui and said, "Ah-- this must be the newbie."

"Yep," Komui replied, and pushed Allen forward. "Care to take him off my hands?"

Allen sputtered. "W-wait-- where're you going now?"

Komui just smiled. "Well then-- Lavi'll show you the ropes. I really do have somewhere I must be. Be nice, now."

"Beansprout and I'll be just fine," Lavi said, pointing to himself with a thumb while Allen sputtered again.

"Look, Allen-- you've already got yourself a nickname," Komui said, and waved the two goodbye. Allen's only thread left to his former life had just walked away-- and left him with a stranger.

"We might want to get moving, Beansprout," Lavi said and elbowed a stunned Allen in the ribs. "The alarm'll sound here in a second, and I don't want to be around when it does."

Allen made a face. "What--?"

An alarm indeed rang, shrill and close, and out of a nearby store came an angry employee. He shouted something at the two, and Lavi decided then was a great time to skedaddle.

"C'mon!" He shouted, and pulled Allen along as he ran.

"What...what did you do?" Allen yelled back.

"I...might've nicked a thing or two..." He laughed guiltily. Allen began to worry just what he had gotten himself into.

-oxoxoxoxo-

"So, Beansprout," Lavi panted, collapsing into the nearest park bench ten minutes later, after they had escaped safely. "What's your name?"

"You have a nickname for me before you even know my real name?"He replied in a half-joking tone, equally out of breath. "I'm Allen. Allen Walker."

"Lavi. Welcome to the job of a lifetime, Allen." Lavi said, and stuck out hand for Allen to shake.

"Thanks," he said, and took his hand in his own, though he couldn't quite tell if what Lavi said was supposed to be a joke or not.

The park was quiet at this time of the day, and the dusty dirt path through the flourishing greenery was rather unoccupied-- Lavi and Allen were the only ones in sight, and thankfully, un-pursued. A light breeze caught the taller trees that encased the park, and there was the sound of rustling of branches and leaves.

Lavi turned to Allen and asked, "So how old are you? -- can't be any more than seventeen, can ya?"

"I'm fifteen."

"Really!" Lavi looked a little surprised. "Maybe it was the white hair, but you looked older. Heh. I'm eighteen. That makes me big brother."

Allen scowled. "I am _not_ calling you that."

Lavi laughed and jumped up from the bench. "You don't have to," he said, and took out the yellow post-it note from his pocket. "Lesse...Eleven thirty-one, eh? You have the time, Beansprout?"

"It's _Allen_. And it's nine twenty-five now."

"Ah, we have plenty of time," he said, ignoring the first part. "You don't have anywhere to be, do ya?"

"Actually..."

Allen had thought about it. Not much, seeing as how since his death, there hadn't really been time to pause and think about what he would do now-- his mind was on overload and few things had taken priority over processing the fact that he was dead-turned-undead-turned-grim-reaper.

So it was with half-hearted conviction that he said, "I'd...I'd like to, uh, pick up some things from my apartment."

Lavi raised an eyebrow. "You know you can't go back there, right?" Allen blinked and turned to him. "They won't recognize you."

"What do you mean?" He still looked the same, didn't he? He hadn't looked into a mirror since he'd died, but through passing window panes, he could see his familiar white hair, his button-up long-sleeved shirt...

"Come on, Beansprout, you have some learning to do," Lavi replied. From anyone else, Allen would've found the comment condescending, but from Lavi, it sounded naturally sincere.

Allen took off after his new acquaintance, who had already started walking down the path, his hands behind his head. "Hey-- hey, what's with all this 'Beansprout' stuff?"

Lavi gave a little chuckle. "It's what Yu calls you," and, seeing the look on Allen's face, continued, "Another reaper. He's...a little grumpy sometimes, but he means well. Most of the time...When he learned you had replaced Suman, he said to me"-- at this Lavi stooped and mimicked a surly voice--"'Great, another newbie. Beansprout had better not get in my way.' I thought I was a great nickname for you."

He grinned and Allen gave him another look. He had a feeling he'd be giving a lot of looks from now on.

-oxoxoxoxo-

"Oh, now where is that store?" the red head mumbled to himself. He and Allen were on the main drag now, walking past shops and vendors, and Lavi seemed determined to find a specific one. "It's here..._somewhere_-- oh." He stopped suddenly, looking very proud of himself, and made a 'ta-da' gesture. "Take a gander, my young friend."

"Lavi...what am I supposed to be looking at?"

The store they had stopped in front of was an electronics store; one that displayed its wares for everyone to see, complete with surveying cameras so you could watch yourself as you walked by in the small televsions. A dozen or so Lavi-and-Allens stared back at them.

"Look harder," the real Lavi replied, leaning against the building in a casual sort of way, motioning to the TV's with a nod of his chin.

Allen rolled his eyes but did so anyway, if only to indulge Lavi, expecting to see the familiar white locks and silver-blue eyes staring back at him.

But he did not. In fact, a very _un_familiar sight met him.

A stranger wore his skin--but even that wasn't entirely his. Dark brown eyes stared back from the screens' many faces, where in the glass reflection, he saw silver. His white hair was colored a muddy brown that went with the stranger's eyes, his carefully-concealed scar absent, and his face oddly gaunt. Another stranger stood beside him, one wearing Lavi's headband and quirky smile, but whose eyes lacked color and light.

"This," Lavi said, "is what we look like to the living."

Allen poked his face as the stranger on the screen did the same thing, and Lavi continued to explain. "Our appearances are altered so that one doesn't run into anybody we know-- it would be problematic if a dead relative came back to life, see?"

Allen didn't really have any relatives, (or, if he had, he certainly had no desire to see them, dead or alive), and thought about telling Lavi so, but he was enthralled with the face in the TV, and decided not to mention this fact. Instead, he turned to the other boy and asked, "Which one do _you _see?"

"Me? Oh, I see you, of course. Only the living see that one."

Allen turned back and pulled on a lock of bleach-white hair, and the boy mirrored him. "Y'know...he's kinda scary."

Lavi laughed-- short and loud and full of life. "Yes, well, I think I like the real you better, too. I don't much like mine," he said, and put his face up close to the window to examine his other. "He's..._old_."

Allen gave a noncommittal snort. This was by far one of the most distressing things about being dead. It seemed as if he, the proverbial fish, was only getting further and further away from the ocean...

Lavi pulled himself away from examining his other's faults. "You sure you want to go, then?"

Allen nodded half-heartedly. He wasn't expecting a visit, just...

"Lead the way, my friend, lead the way," said Lavi and pushed Allen forward.

-oxoxoxoxo-

It was weird walking into the building and not having anyone recognize him. The manager, who usually sat in the office in the foyer, was absent, and his station was occupied by the bellman. Out of habit, Allen waved hello to the sleepy man, who in return gave him a groggy blink.

Lavi had flashed him an I Told You So look, and they rode the jumpy elevator up three flights.

"I--can't--get--it--open!" Allen seethed, yanking futilely on the doorknob of apartment number 307-- his. His belongings--including the _keys_to said apartment, as fate would have it-- had been lost in the accident.

"Oh here, Beansprout, let me," Lavi shouldered past him and withdrew something from his pocket.

"Why in the world do you have a _hair pin_ in your pocket?"

"For things like this," he said, stuck the pin in the key hole, fiddled with it, and with a click and a creak, Lavi pushed the door open to reveal the apartment. "Ta-da."

Allen's apartment was mainly comprised of three sections; the bed "room", the bathroom, and the living room. While the bedroom wasn't much of a room, and instead sat in the middle of the living quarters, the apartment was a fairly adequate living space. It was smaller than Lenalee's and darker, too, as the walls were painted a much drearier peeling gray, as opposed to her hues of orange and red.

His bed was of the stow-away variety, and retracted into the wall, but it was currently out, like he had left it. (_"Ah, h__ow much __things change in one day..."_ Allen thought to himself as he noticed this.) On the bed lay a pillow or two, a pile of blankets, and a lone plush that greatly resembled a golden playing ball with wings and horns.

But the plush wasn't sitting contentedly on the bed. No, it was currently whizzing excitedly around the small room on stuffed wings. Which it did not usually do.

"What the...?"

It was then that Allen decided that Karma hated him.

--End. Three.--

Ending Note: A few more twists in the story. And there are more to come. I felt like I needed to add a little something at the end, but this was a good a place as any for a chapter break. xD School might take over my life at any moment, so hopefully I'll still be to keep this up. Wish me luck. In the meantime, I'll be typing furiously. But I type slowly. So forgive me. xD Reviews are always appreciated!


	4. The Name of the Game

_A/N:_ Hello again. It's been a while, and I must apologize for that. It's not that I've forgotten or have been neglecting this-- I just haven't had time lately. The only thing I can promise is not quantity or frequency, but quality. (Hopefully!) Considering this thing goes past me so many times it's ridiculous, I hope you guys approve. xD Thanks again, and reveiws are always appreciated. Enjoy.

oxo

--Dead Like Us--

Chapter Four:

_The Name of the Game_

oxoxoxoxo

"Whoa--" Lavi ducked as the golden object narrowly missed crashing into his head, happily swooping down to meet the two.

The previous occupant of the apartment (as Allen supposed it really wasn't his anymore) stood in the doorway and watched the thing hover around his head in absolute amazement. For several more seconds, it hovered from side to side as Allen, the poor confused boy that he was, recovered.

"You're...not supposed to be _alive_..." he told it in an almost-whisper, attempting reason.

"Neither are you," Lavi chuckled, and stuck out a finger for it to land on. Instead, it took to Allen's head, settling itself into his white hair, which prompted another laugh from the red-head. "He seems to like you."

"Alright..." Allen said, cupping the cheerful little thing in his hands and removing it from its perch in his hair. "But what _is_ it?"

Lavi looked as if he were thinking for a minute, and then said, "Must be a golem."

"What's that?"

"A sort of tool. They serve no other purpose than communication, but they're really quite helpful," Lavi scratched the thing like one would a cat as it stood on four stubby limbs in Allen's palm. "I've never seen one like this, though."

The golem took to the air again, flapping softly to stay aloft.

"It used to just sit there..." Allen half-sighed.

Lavi laughed again and plopped down onto the bed. "You find lots of things change when you die."

"Maybe I should be used to this by now," Allen said, with an almost-laugh.

"Maybe. It takes a while to get used to," Lavi watched the little golden golem light atop Allen's head again. "...We should give it a name."

Allen laughed-- his first true laugh in a long time. It made his lungs ache, and he felt a weight slide off his chest. He could breathe more easily. It felt, undeniably, _good_. "What?"

"A name, Beansprout, a name! Poor thing needs a name." Lavi's face was so serious it was comical.

"Bob," Allen offered, and Lavi scoffed.

"A _good _name."

"Frankenstein."

Lavi laughed. "Naw," he said. "How about...'Timcanpy'?"

"Why that?"

"Dunno. He looks like a Tim to me."

The reaper raised an eyebrow in amusement. "How so? Gut feeling?"

"You can call it that." Lavi jumped up from the bed, and the golem leapt into the air again, whizzing around excitedly. "Now that that's settled...What is it you needed?"

Allen's smile faded as he looked around the apartment, full of memories and the smell of years. Every piece had something attached to it; a memory, a thought, a person...Allen gave a mournful look.

"Just...some things."

-oxoxoxoxo-

Allen sifted carefully through his belongings, fully aware of the fact that he probably wouldn't be coming back again. A better half of his clothes were folded hastily and stuffed into a bag the two had uncovered, and Allen was now going through his various trinkets --not that he had many, but any room seemed to pile up with random objects that one feels the need to hold on to. Funny how most of them so seemed immaterial now.

In fact, the only thing he _did_ pack into the bag that wasn't his clothes was a photo, slightly dog-eared, but he did this as subtly and quickly as he could, and Lavi never noticed a thing.

The newly dubbed golem Timcanpy tried his (its?) best to help, too; he picked up random items and showed them to Allen, who in turn laughed and told him that he didn't need it, but Timcanpy was most unsuccessful at picking up things bigger than himself, which was most everything. So...he wasn't really much help at all. But all the same, Allen appreciated the gesture, and allowed the golden golem to perch on his head while he went through his own things.

Lavi was much more useless, and kept demanding that they grab the TV, which, he insisted, would fit snuggly into the bag (which of course, it wouldn't), but Allen merely refused him with a smile. Lavi soon gave up and instead took to watching people on the street out of Allen's very small window.

In a little over an hour, Allen's life was packed away in a duffle bag, and they were set to leave.

"Lavi...what exactly do I do with-- er-- Timcanpy?" Allen said, closing the door to the apartment behind them as the two stepped into the narrow hallway. Said golem was currently travelling around the duo's head, quite excited to leave the confines of the apartment.

"Ah, you don't have to worry about him. The living don't look very hard, if you know what I mean," he answered, looking to his partner with his one eye.

As if to illustrate Lavi's point, Timcanpy ducked into the folds of Allen's clothing, nearly invisible now, just as the elevator dinged and let a hurried passenger out.

"See? Smart little bugger, he is," Lavi complimented, but then he stopped in mid-smile. "Oh snap-- Beansprout, what's the time?"

"_Allen_. And it's eleven twenty-two."

"Oh no..."

"What's wrong?" Allen asked. Lavi and panic did not mix well together. It was...distressing.

"We have to put it in gear if we're gonna make it...C'mon Beansprout--"

_"Allen!" _

"--we hafta hurry. Spent a little too much time getting your stuff together..." Lavi grabbed Allen's bag and made off down the hallway, the other boy at his heels. "Which is faster? -- stairs or elevator?"

"Stairs, elevator's always been slow, but Lavi--"

"No time to talk, Beanspr-- _Allen_, have to keep the appointment!" He said.

Reapers, mused Allen, were very devoted to their appointees.

Very soon, they were out of the staircase, having almost tripped down a flight or two, and headed for the exit. Allen noticed as they made their way across the foyer that the bellman had fallen asleep on the job again.

Onto the street Lavi raced, dragging Allen and his things along. They zipped past sales and store fronts, one of which being the electronics store, Allen saw, and caught a glimpse of the un-Allen in the store front windows as they rushed past, but only for a second, and then they were already two stores ahead.

Lavi finally slowed as he approached the park again, panting as they reached their final destination of green trees and dusty paths.

"T...time?" he asked through giant gasps of air.

Allen checked his watch and panted, "Eleven...twenty-six..."

Lavi patted Allen on the back. "Good work, soldier...we made excellent time." He extracted the yellow post-it from his pocket. "Aha!...R. Boone. Do you know any R. Boone's, Beansprout?"

"What...are you talking about, Lavi?" Allen replied, still out of breath. There was a lot of running involved with accompanying the older boy.

"Oh, right..." he said, and collapsed into the bench. "I forgot you're new at this. We're looking for an R. Boone, and he's got to be close. His appointment'll be up in a couple of minutes."

Allen said, "I still don't understand..." and plopped down next to his companion on the bench.

"Well..." Lavi said, finally catching his breath. "You're about to see a reaper at work, my friend. See, we reapers only receive a limited amount of information about our, ah, charges. Makes everything easier-- they don't know you, and you don't know them." Allen looked to Lavi as he spoke-- his face betrayed no emotion other than his typical devil-may-care attitude. "It's less personal that way. We only really get three things-- last name, first initial. Address. And E.T.D."

"E.T.D.?"

"Estimated time of death. And a Mr. R. Boone's gonna bite it in about five minutes."

Allen was surprised at Lavi's lack of seriousness-- the red-head was joking. And smiling.

"How do you know who he--or _she_-- is if that's all you've got to go on?" Allen asked, still looking to Lavi.

"Ah, _that's_ reaper's intuition. We must be like the fly upon the wall--" Lavi motioned to the whole of the park with his hands, "and observe."

Allen looked at Lavi in a sideways glance and gave a short laugh. "Yeah?"

"_Yeah_," he replied, settling himself back into the seat and sticking his hands into pockets. "We cannot interfere. Or else someone who's supposed to kick the bucket, might not. And that would be bad."

"Why? They would live, wouldn't they?" The newest reaper asked.

"Yes and no. Just keep your eyes peeled, Beansprout." Lavi had avoided the question.

The park was crowded with people now-- if Lavi was to 'do his job', then he had better start asking around for this mysterious R. Boone, but the boy merely slouched on the bench, his head moving from side to side, scanning the crowd. Allen, in the meantime, unaware of what was transpiring, was content to watch the trees sway-- it wasn't everyday he had time to just sit.

Lavi elbowed Allen in the ribs after a fashion, and pointed to a man. "My bet's on him."

The man stood on a ladder, not _too_ high up, pruning branches on a tree.

"Why?"

"Because, Beansprout," he said. "Death has one hell of a sense of humor." The new reaper squinted at his senior, who merely smiled a toothy grin back.

Allen leaned back into the bench with a sigh. He had given up trying to argue with Lavi logically; it was time to follow his lead. "What do you suppose the 'R' stands for, then?"

"Dunno," Lavi laughed and shrugged. "Regal. Or Red. Rob. Robin."

Allen chuckled. "Roger? Or Richard. Re--"

"_Rodney!"_ Came a voice, and Allen and Lavi exchanged a look of surprise and both sat up a little straighter in their seats. "_Rodney, _you _jackass!_ Get back here with my bike!"

"Nope!" smiled a short-haired boy straddling a shiny red bike. He looked older than Lavi, perhaps twenty-something. 'Rodney' was speeding through the crowds of people (un-helmeted), talking over his shoulder to another boy who was chasing him-- the one who had yelled. "It's alllll mine!"

"Right," Lavi suddenly leapt to his feet, "this job's all intuition, Beansprout."

The boy sped nearer on his bike, laughing through streams of people, and Allen watched Lavi with curiosity as he tapped the boy lightly on the shoulder just as he sped by. Allen could almost see the nebulous wisp of an after-image on Rodney's shoulder as Lavi took his hand away. He had been marked by Death, and Allen knew it.

The boy, however, was quite unaware that he was about to die. He took almost no notice of the two reapers other than to shoot them a quick sideways glance, and then he was speeding down the path again, his panting friend running after him.

"And that is how you do it-- find your charge. Take his soul. And watch," Lavi said, and followed the kid on his bike with his single eye. There was something indiscernible in it as he watched, but Allen was preoccupied.

He stared at Lavi, his mouth agape, the fury rising in his undead heart. This was wrong. This was so wrong. His words came out like poison, and betrayed nothing of the hot anger coursing through his veins. "...Just like that? You touch him and he _dies_?"

"Yep. And then we wait."

"You just..._sit_ here and wait for him to die?" Now his hands were shaking from rage, or perhaps something else, but he looked Lavi right in his emerald eye, his voice still quiet.

"Well...we have to stick around for the soul," Lavi shrugged, and he showed no sign of noticing Allen's obvious anger.

He glared at Lavi-- that's not what he meant and he knew it-- but he only smiled back in his toothy way, which only made Allen angrier. He opened his mouth to argue, to yell, to tell Lavi that he was heartless and that this was wrong, but was cut off by the resounding crack from the tree where the man upon the ladder was pruning.

And Allen was brought back for a terrifying second to the scene of his own untimely demise, and the crack of the branch became the crashing of a dinosaur's skull down steep steps, but then the man shouted "Watch out!", tearing Allen from his thoughts, just as the branch toppled into the dirt path and right into the oncoming biker's way...

Allen shut his eyes tight, his anger forgotten, and now a thing of the past. He knew what would happen. The branch would come down on the boy as he rode carelessly on the bike, and then he would--

There was a quiet screech of bicycle tires and the gasping of voices and another voice who shouted "Whoa!", and then...nothing.

Allen opened his eyes. The boy's bike was splayed out, crushed under the weight of the fallen tree branch, but where was _he_? Allen stood up from the bench, looking around for the boy, while Lavi followed his lead, though his disposition was much different; Allen's was anxious. Lavi's was quite unconcerned.

There was a cough, and the boy rose, his brown hair disheveled, and his arms bore a few scuffs, but he was very much alive. His friend all but plowed into him with relief. The man, with his construction hard-hat on, came running up, too, asking, "Are you alright?" To which the boy replied, stunned, "Yeah...yeah, I'm fine."

"Hmm. That's strange," Lavi checked the post-it. "He's supposed to die. I'm sure of it."

Allen sighed, relieved, and collapsed into the bench again. He smiled; happy for the boy who lived where he did not. "Maybe it's not his time."

Lavi checked Allen's watch and grinned. "You're right...it's only eleven twenty-nine."

Allen did not hear him. Instead, he followed the boy whose name was on Death's to-do list as he brushed himself off and pried his bike out from underneath the thick branch. It was only _slightly_ wonky and dented.

Still quite dazed, the boy mounted his bike again, despite protest from the crowd, which he shrugged off. Off he went down the path again, followed closely by his friend.

"He's alive..." Allen smiled suddenly, glad for Rodney and his bike. But Lavi shook his head.

"Not for long," Allen looked to Lavi and the redhead motioned to the biker. "Watch an' learn, Beansprout. Nobody gets past Death once their name's made it on a post-it."

Rodney still trucked along on the path, closely followed by his friend.

Until a stray Frisbee came his way. And promptly knocked him sideways off his mount.

Allen gaped. He wasn't close enough, but if he had been, he would have heard the dull thud as the boy's skull hit the pavement. Rodney did not move again.

"I think it was all that trauma to the head, actually," said Lavi, standing on his tip-toes to see over the gathering crowd again, "that did 'im in."

Allen sat stunned. If that boy had just slowed down, or worn a helmet...he would've _lived_.

"Aaaah...at least he's not a bleeder," mumbled Lavi.

Anger once again shot through Allen like ice. "Do you get off killing people?" He rounded on Lavi, who looked faintly surprised. "Snuffing out their lives, _killing _them, and then watching them--?"

"We don't _kill_ them," Lavi said icily, and Allen took a step back from the intensity in his voice. "That's not our job. If we didn't do our_ job_...well, the Akuma would do much worse."

Allen stopped, furrowing his brow. "Akuma?"

"Machines. Weapons. Sometimes you'll catch a glimpse of one out of the corner of your eye when an accident happens--that is, someone dies-- but just in passing. Of course, only we would be able to see them," he looked to Allen. "The Akuma live for us to slip up and get their hands on a soul."

"You can't possibly tell me that you're doing these people a favor--?!"

"It is what it is, Beansprout."

"What is that supposed to mea--?"

_"Dude!"_ Rodney cut in before Allen could finish, appearing out of nowhere, his face pale and see-through in the afternoon sunshine. He craned to get a better view over the crowd now surrounding his body. "Who died?"

"You, I'm afraid," Lavi said with a sigh. "C'mon, _dude--, _you and I have some very pretty bright lights to find. Beansprout, I'll meet you at the Kitchen-- you know the way, don't you?"

Allen nodded sourly.

Lavi waved his goodbye cheerfully despite Allen's attitude, and, guiding the hapless dead boy's soul along (who spat "This _sucks!"_ as he was dragged away), walked away from the park and Allen.

He heard the words, "Hey...nice boy like yourself got a nice place to stay, don't ya?" before Lavi was out of sight (but hardly out of mind).

And so he was on his own.

Allen was utterly alone for the first time since his death. And he didn't even know what to do with himself. He looked down a ways at the dirt path, where the body of poor Rodney lay. Sirens blared in the distance, and suddenly Allen didn't want to stick around any more-- especially not for the clean-up crew.

So he let his undead feet carry him away.

The tip-tap of his feet hitting the now dark gray concrete of the sidewalk brought a kind of tempo to his wondering; a metronome.

Throngs of people poured out of buildings; it was lunch time for them, going about business as usual.

Twenty-four hours ago, Allen himself would be in his school's cafeteria, munching on his home-made lunch, cramming for some test that he had forgotten about.

But he wasn't. All because of a dinosaur.

His feet walked; his brain wondered elsewhere.

_How am I going to do this? _

This wasn't what he wanted to be. This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out. If he did this-- if he took souls, if he _killed_ these people...what would that make him? He was the Grim Reaper, and everyone whom he touched was doomed to die. He wasn't allowed to live his life, but instead took the lives of others.

Irony seemed to have a penchant for biting him in the ass.

It was then Allen realized that he had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and that he had absolutely no idea where he was.

--End. Four.--

Ending Note: Next chapter should be the introduction of two more characters. Hopefully I'll do them justice. I'll have lots of typing to do until then. Thanks for reading and reveiwing.


	5. Lost and Found

_A/N:_ I'm back. Seriously. I can't seem to stay away. xD It's been a while, and I apologize for taking so long with the next update. I promise that I've had good reason, and that I haven't dropped the story.

oxo

--Dead Like Us--

Chapter Five:

_Lost and Found_

oxoxoxoxo

Coming to his senses, Allen blinked himself out of his aimless wondering and looked around for a landmark, anything familiar at all.

There were none.

This place was foreign-- he had rarely ever traveled farther than his neighborhood, and this place was far from anywhere _he_ had been. Shops lined the busy sidewalk, and cars lined the busy street. Tall buildings shot towards the sky all around him.

Allen was now utterly alone _and_ utterly lost.

"Oh no..." Allen groaned, scanning past the tall buildings, still looking for a hint of familiar territory. "Oh no...oh no..."

People pushed past him on the busy sidewalk, though Allen had gone into a state of panic and hardly noticed the looks people shot him.

"Oh...E-excuse me," he tapped someone on the shoulder, and suddenly hoped that that did not remove their soul, (which it didn't, thankfully) and asked, "Would you happen to know where someplace called the Komfy Kitchen is?"

The man gave him a look, which Allen understood, but instead of answering the poor boy, he made an important huffing noise and walked away. Which Allen neither understood nor appreciated.

"E-excuse me-- sir--!" He shouted after the man who waved him away.

The problem with this neighborhood was that no one was particularly keen on speaking with strangers who needed directions to tacky cafés known as the Komfy Kitchen. This did not help Allen Walker any.

"Excuse me-- Ma'am? Sir!...oh..." Allen turned almost in a 360-degree circle trying to catch someone, but they all fled in their business-like way, in their business-like attire.

Allen was beginning to dislike business suits very much.

"Please, wait!" Allen took a step forward, and, of course, as his luck went, promptly ran into someone. He fell to the ground with thump.

"Ah..." Allen grunted, looking up to see who it was he had crashed into. A man stood above him, his face quite impassive, an eyebrow raised. "I-I'm so sorry!" Allen pushed himself up. "I wasn't looking were I was going. Are you alright?"

He shrugged, and Allen took that as a yes. But the man didn't move.

Not knowing what else to say, Allen sighed an, "I'm glad..." and then quickly added, "Oh-- would you happen to know where the Komfy Kitchen might be...?"

The man looked young, and Allen realized he was much more of a boy than a _man_. He had a long pony-tail, and he was dressed in a much more casual way than the rest of the crowd, but there was an air of professionalism about him.

He seemed to look Allen over before he huffed an exasperated sigh, and a scowl came across his features. "You the newbie, then?"

"H-huh?" Allen froze. Did he hear him right?

"That moron dump you on me, eh, Beansprout?"

This must be Yu. The nickname and the fact that he knew him as the "newbie", coupled with Lavi's oh-so-accurate imitation of him earlier made it quite obvious. _Moron_, Allen supposed, could only refer to Lavi.

The new reaper gulped-- the boy standing in front of him was intimidating, to say the very least, and the annoyed scowl permanently scrawled across his face didn't make him look any friendlier.

"Well?" the other boy said impatiently.

"Y-yeah, that's me."

"Good," he turned around, and began to walk. Over his shoulder, he called, "Are you just going to stand there, then?"

Allen balked. "N-no," he said, a little defensively, and followed his new acquaintance as he stalked through the crowds of people.

Yu walked deliberately, and fast, so that Allen almost had to jog to keep up with him.

"Uh, I-I'm Allen Walker," Allen said hopefully, trying to instigate a conversation. The boy did not answer. He decided to chalk Yu's silence up to the noisy street, over which anything was hard to hear, and tried again. "I'm new to this."

Again, the boy did not answer. Allen decided to take a different approach.

"Listen, Yu, thanks for--"

The long-haired boy whipped around so fast Allen almost ran into him again. He cowered under the malice in the other boy's glare.

"Do _not_-- under any circumstances-- call me that. _Ever_. It's _Kanda_. Understand, Beansprout?" Beansprout nodded slowly. "Good. The moron only does it because he wants to die-- again."

Said moron had quite obviously set a bad example for said Beansprout. Allen made a mental note to spend as little time with_ Kanda_ (Allen would be sure never to never call him anything other than) as possible.

The younger boy squeaked out a timid "sorry", and the elder snorted derisively and continued to make his way through the crowds in his quick stride. This time, Allen put as much distance between them as he could.

Kanda obviously hated his guts already. And Allen did not wish to make that hatred any deeper, so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

The rest of the walk commenced in almost utter silence between the two. Kanda did not speak a word, and Allen was inclined to return the favor.

Allen found he wasn't as lost as he had initially thought, for in only about fifteen minutes, they had passed his old school, and then his apartment, and then-- lo and behold!-- there was the quaint Komfy Kitchen situated on the corner of 9th and 12th.

Allen, who had been sulking behind Kanda as he strode along, lit up immediately. No more sulky Mr. Antisocial-Man! The younger reaper leapt at the door, and opened it with a slight creak and the faint chime of a bell, and the elder (if not grouchier) of the duo made a disapproving sound. Allen did not really care.

In a worn faux-leather type booth in the café sat three familiar faces-- and one not-so-familiar.

Lavi, who was seeing how far he could slouch into his seat before his head disappeared below the table, was the first to notice Allen as he walked in. He immediately perked up and waved a cheerful hello.

"Where've you been?" Lavi asked, scooting over to make room for his white-haired companion. The booth was made for a maximum of four people; it was currently attempting to seat six. Needless to say, it was a tight fit. "We've been looking all over for you, Beansprout!"

Allen smiled a tired smile. His previous frustration with the redhead was long forgotten. "I got...a little lost."

Kanda scoffed, and Allen gave him a reproachful look, but the older boy didn't quite seem to care. Allen could've sworn he heard something that sounded like "That's an understatement..." but the café was alive with the slight rumble of background noises and Lavi had interrupted, "Hey! It's Yu, too!" to which the dark-haired reaper growled dangerously.

Next to Lavi and Allen sat Lenalee, who waved politely over the redhead at Allen as Lavi and Kanda bantered. Allen smiled back. Apparently, Kanda and Lavi were well used to greeting each other this way.

Across the table sat Komui, an amused look on his face, and next to him sat another man, one Allen did not know.

"Sit down, Kanda," said Komui, interrupting Lavi as he laughed boyishly at Kanda's rather violent talk. "We've got some new assignments."

"I'd rather stand, actually," Kanda snorted, giving Lavi and Allen both wicked glares.

The bespectacled man shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, and turned to address Allen. "It looks like you've already meet Yu Kanda, another resident reaper. Of the grumpy variety," Allen nodded a greeting in acknowledgement and Kanda grunted. Komui motioned to his left at the man sitting there and said, "And this is Arystar Krory."

Krory was in his mid-twenties or so, and when he saw Allen, stuck out his hand kindly to greet Allen, which the boy gratefully took.

"I'm Allen Walker."

"Krory. Pleased to meet you," the man said, smiling timidly. He wore a rather old-styled shirt, and his short black hair was uniform save for a shock of white that fell into his face.

"You as well," Allen responded.

"Now that you've been introduced to the team," Komui said, addressing Allen and then turning to the rest of the company. "I have some post-its for you all."

The group groaned, except for the newest addition, who dropped his gaze worriedly.

"Again?" Lavi asked, slumping into his seat. "I already took one today!"

Komui nodded cheerfully, taking out his notebook again and his stack of yellow post-it notes. "Sorry," he peeled a couple off. "One for you, Krory, and two for Kanda..."

"Two? Why do I get two?" Kanda snarled, taking the post-its reluctantly.

"Because you do. Lenalee, Lavi-- if you would do me a favor and let our newest member tag along with you to this one,"--he handed another to Lenalee-- "I would be very grateful."

Lavi leaned over Allen at the post-it Komui handed Lenalee, glancing down at the name and time written on it. "Oh, good. We have until tomorrow-- but this's all the way out in Campbell! How're we supposed to get out there, huh, Chief? None of _us_ has got a ride!"

Komui smiled slyly. "You've got legs-- use them."

Lavi huffed, and Allen watched Komui put away his notebook.

He eyed the pen and the stack of post-its carefully. "There's...none for me, is there?"

Komui eyed the other boy."Nope. You need some more practical training before going out on your own reaps."

Allen stared fixedly at the table and sighed a silent breath of relief.

"Oh-- Beansprout," Lavi said, perking up a bit and looking to Allen. "You left your bag at the park. Good thing I came back and found it there." He kicked something under the table that made a muffled noise.

"Ah! Thanks Lavi, I owe you one."

"Know what else I found you?"

"What?" Allen said, curious.

Lavi grinned. "A place to live."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yep," Lavi scooted closer. "Er, listen, Allen-- I just got evicted 'cause I haven't paid my rent for some at like four months, so...guess what?"

"What...?" Allen scooted back, dubious. Lavi still had a smile on his face, though Allen was quite sure it was more for effect than anything.

"You and I are gonna be roommates!"

Allen stared blankly at Lavi, who seemed quite pleased with himself. Kanda put his head to his face and declared that it was time for him to leave. Lenalee laughed, and Krory, quite unsure of what was happening, blinked several times in confusion.

-oxoxoxoxo-

Between the tan color of the thin carpet, the uniform red of the doors, and the buzzing fluorescent lights, the apartment hallway was much too bright. Allen didn't so much mind. The apartment building was endearing in a way. It was the sort of place you'd find a retired woman of seventy or so, the kind with lots of cats and no children. (Perhaps Mrs. Cat-Food Lady lived here?)

It was only a short ways away from the Kitchen, and the two only had to walk five or six blocks, making it relatively central. The Kitchen seemed to be the apex of town, at least, to the reapers. (Or rather, the reapers Allen knew.) Maybe that was why the embodiment of death met for meetings in a tacky little café?

Allen sighed, and closed his eyes. He had to stop thinking; it was going to be the death of him.

Inwardly, Allen laughed.

Lavi muttered to himself a sequence of numbers that he hadn't bothered to write down, and the white-haired boy followed closely behind, his things in hand.

"Ah-ha," called Lavi quietly as they reached another red door at the end of the hallway. "This is it."

The door swung out noisily on its hinges and allowed the two inside, but only after some coaxing from Lavi's trusty hair pin.

"It would be a lot easier if you'd use the key, Lavi," said Allen, stepping inside the small apartment while the aforementioned redhead followed.

"What are you talking about? We don't _have_ keys, Beansprout," Lavi said, setting his own belongings, a lone bag slightly smaller than Allen's own, down on the floor of their new living quarters. Allen was about to voice concern when Lavi continued. "Here it is. Nice, huh?"

Allen stopped short, his mouth open slightly.

'Nice' was not a word Allen would use to describe the apartment room. Try dark, try dirty, try the opposite of anything that was clean and _holy_, and you'd have been closer.

A combination of clothes, discarded or half-eaten food and other unmentionable things littered the floor-- in fact, there was no floor to speak of that Allen could see. Various posters of every shape, size, and genre covered the walls. The blinds were drawn on the windows, and there was hardly any light in the apartment room at all.

Obviously, Lavi didn't seem to mind the mess, for he nodded approvingly. Allen looked disgusted.

"Home sweet home," Lavi sighed, and Allen shook his head slightly. "Coming in, Beansprout?"

"Y-yeah..." Allen recovered, shutting the door quietly as he picked a path through the filth, reluctant to set his luggage down. "Erm-- Lavi?" The redhead made a noise in response. "Where did you, ah, find this place?"

Lavi smiled slyly. "'Member ol' Rodney?"

"No, Lavi, you didn't..." The white-haired boy stared at the elder with a look somewhat akin to disbelief.

Lavi pulled himself up a little taller in his defense. "I did. He didn't exactly need it any more, did he, now?"

Allen gave the apartment another glance-over. It was smaller than even Allen's-- the bed sat in the corner of the small living room, its sheets disheveled, and a filthy off-white, and off to one side sat the bathroom, which Allen dared not enter.

It was as messy as its previous owner's death.

"Well, no, but...Isn't stealing from dead people, like, I dunno, _bad?_ Against the rules?"

Lavi laughed, and flopped onto the bed. "We don't exactly get paid for our services, y'know."

"We don't?" Allen inquired.

"Nope. What were you expecting? Food stamps? Complementary coffee?" Lavi chuckled from the bed.

"Well, no, but..." Allen grumbled and Lavi gave a laugh.

"People aren't exactly gracious when they find out they've died. We don't get awards for being good Samaritans and we don't get much in the way of thanks from our charges. Most of us reapers take what we can get. The rest of us get day jobs," Lavi grinned. "I am the former kind of person. And lucky for you."

"Urgh. Yeah, lucky me," Allen said, looking around at the dirty apartment.

He laughed again. "Oh, c'mon. With a little fixing up and some cleaning and...perhaps a laundry basket and a new coat of paint..."

"...and a flamethrower to burn off the filth..."

"This place'll be great!"

"When can we start?" Allen asked, sitting down on the bed next to Lavi.

"Like I always say; never do today what you can put off until tomorrow." He grinned back.

"...I think it's the other way around, Lavi." Allen chuckled.

"Same difference," Lavi laughed.

-oxoxoxoxo-

"Tell me again..." grunted Allen, hefting three or four dirty blankets off the floor and into his arms. "...why I have to sleep on the couch?"

"Because Beansprout," responded Lavi from the single mattress in the room, proceeding to hog the blankets, the bed, and all of the pillows. "I get the bed."

The new reaper grumbled a little in response, but Lavi took no notice. Timcanpy the golden golem fluttered around Allen's head, excited to escape the confines of his jacket. The thing looked so happy to be out and about.

A dim lamp was all the light supplied in the room, and it was slightly muggy. It was night now-- where had the hours gone?

Allen dumped his load onto the small couch, and Timcanpy swooped upon them immediately, burrowing underneath them and then popping out somewhere on the other side. Allen smiled amusedly.

The ancient springs in the bed creaked as Lavi rolled over onto his side, turning his back to his new roommate. "Welp, g'night, Beany. Turn off that light over there, will ya?"

Allen sighed but complied anyway, and with two clicks of the lamp, the room was cast into a pseudo kind of darkness-- lights from the street shone inwards via the small window, and a thin rectangle of light blared from underneath the door. Allen stumbled and made his way through the half-dark to the couch again, and plopped himself down into it.

"Thanks," said Lavi, and Allen could tell that he was already drifting off into sleep. "G'night..."

"'Night," Allen called softly, but there wasn't a response.

That night, Allen learned two things.

The first was that Lavi snored. Loudly, unabashedly, and uninterrupted. Allen had tried covering his ears with the pillow; he had tried waking his red-haired friend. Neither worked. He even chucked his only pillow at Lavi in an attempt to shut him up, but this was only rewarded by a little snort and a creak of springs as he rolled over.

The second was that Allen, as a newly designated reaper, could not fall asleep. Perhaps it was the sound of Lavi's snores, or his own mind buzzing his brain numb in his skull.

Allen, pillow-less now, lay on the worn plush couch and pulled the thread-bare covers over his body, just covering his toes. His eyes would not stay closed, even though they already drooped like weights.

Timcanpy lay motionless on the armrest next to his head. The white-haired reaper looked over at him, envying his sleeping prowess.

Allen turned away and sighed, and warm breath came out. Blood flowed through his veins-- he could feel the warmth it brought to his body-- and his limbs were not stiff or wracked with rigor mortis. He was real living flesh and blood.

But he shouldn't have been.

In reality, his body should be locked away in a plastic body bag somewhere-- perhaps it was? Perhaps the body of one Allen Walker lay dead in some morgue somewhere, waiting to be identified. Would it ever be identified? Whatever _did_ happen to his body-- his real physical body, the one he had seen last in the street, crushed by a dinosaur skull?

Allen shivered. Despite the lack of covers, it wasn't from the cold. His blood and breath were warm, but inside there was a chill that settled deep in Allen's bones. He doubted he would ever be warm again.

Still, even in his exhausted state, he could not fall asleep. Suddenly, he marveled at how fast he fell into slumber the previous night. His head buzzed-- the day before, his mind was merely numb. Perhaps it was compensating now for the delay? The questions swirling around in his mind were unrelenting, and they made his stomach churn and his head pound.

_Why me? Why now? Why a _dinosaur?

Allen turned onto his left shoulder, now facing the back of the couch. He couldn't breathe and it was too warm. When that failed to put him to sleep, he turned over again onto his right side. It didn't slow up his mind, and Allen was still dead tired.

With another warm sigh, Allen flopped onto his back, now staring up at the ceiling.

So much for sleep.

--End. Five.--

Ending Note: Again, sorry for the delay. I'm not entirely sure that I'm too fond of this chapter, but I wrote it how I wanted to, and that's all that matters. I'll be sure to update a little more quickly next time, especially now that it's Winter Break. Thank you, and reviews are always welcome. : )


	6. Of Windows and Light Shows

A/N: A little late, but to compensate, a little longer. :3 This chapter is dedicated to Otter-chan, who was looking forward to this for quite sometime. xD Enjoy.

oxo

--Dead Like Us--

Chapter Six:

_Of Windows ad Light Shows_

oxoxoxoxo

"Hey...hey, kiddo..."

Allen grumbled in protest as a hand on his shoulder shook him out of his sleepy stupor. It seemed to Allen that sleep had only seized him barely five minutes ago-- which held some truth in it. Didn't Lavi know that five minutes of sleep just wasn't enough? Even for the undead?

Allen shrugged the hand off. "Just...five...more hours..." he mumbled into the couch, his voice thick with sleep, and flopped over onto his side.

Lavi laughed from somewhere above him. "No way, Beansprout." Allen felt the covers snatched off of his couch-bed. "Rise and shine."

Couches, as Allen discovered that morning, were not kind to undead reapers. For as Allen refused sleepily to either rise_ or _shine, his skull made the nicest ker-thumping noise against the accursed furniture as Lavi shoved him off.

"Ow!" Allen yelped and glared upward accusingly at the grinning perpetrator, the golden golem Timcanpy flapping happily above his head. "What was that for?!"

"You wouldn't get up when I used conventional means," shrugged Lavi as Tim settled himself on Allen's white hair.

"Doesn't mean you had to go and push me off..."grumbled the reaper as he got himself up off of the floor and onto his feet.

Lavi laughed, leaning back on the balls of his feet. "It's nine. I had to get you up sometime."

"Nine?!"

"Yeah," said Lavi, sticking his hands inside his pockets and giving a little sigh. His eye patch and headband were still present. "And don't forget that we have a job to do."

"Oh..." Allen's face fell. "Right."

Lavi gave him a look, and Allen sensed something like pity in his green gaze. But it didn't last, and Lavi mussed up Allen's white hair to fill the silence. "C'mon Beansprout," he said. "We're meeting Lenalee at the Kitchen in fifteen."

-oxoxoxoxo-

Once again, Allen stepped into the little café known humbly as the Komfy Kichen, and was upon entrance assaulted with the smell of burnt pancake batter and sizzling ham.

There, at the booth that the reapers had sat in the day before-- and, come to think of it, the day Allen had died, too-- sat Lenalee Lee, alone, pouring over a book in her lap. She looked up from her novel as the chime on the door announced her two friends' arrival.

"Do you guys reserve this seat or something?" Allen asked as he slipped into the seat across from Lenalee.

"It's pretty much an unsaid rule here in the Kitchen," Lenalee answered, smiling, only half-joking.

Lavi looked around, sliding into the red plastic-covered seat next to Allen. "Hey, where's the chief?"

"Brother had some things to do today," said the girl. "He said for us to get on without him."

"Dang. I was gonna pester 'em for a ride out there..." Lavi sighed, leaning back.

"What'd it say, Lavi?" Asked Lenalee, closing up her book and stowing it away.

"What?" He blinked.

"The post-it?" Lenalee raised an eyebrow.

"Oh. That. Right," Lavi grinned sheepishly. "Let's see here... It was 421 Brokebrook Drive. But Lenalee, that's all the way out in Campbell!"

"What time did it say?"

"Seven forty-two P.M, but really, can't I just--"

Lenalee cut off Lavi with a small sigh. "I guess we walk."

"Walk?" Lavi whined, attracting some sideways glances from other patrons. "But I don't _wanna_ walk! It'll take all day on foot! We could-- _I_ could, you know--"

"No, Lavi. You are not stealing anything," Lenalee said firmly, though there was some amusement in her voice.

"Whaaaaat? Lenalee, I'm surprised at you. I would never. I am offended."

Allen, who had been relatively silent during this exchange, was taken aback by the everyday attitude the two reapers had. Did they do this everyday? Figure out how to get from deathbed to deathbed?

"We have time to walk, Lavi. And besides, exorcise is good for you. You don't mind, do you, Allen?" The pig-tailed girl asked.

Allen started. "H-huh? Oh. No, not at all."

Lavi sighed and leaned back into the booth. "Off today, then, Lenalee?"

She nodded. "I changed shifts with someone."

"Oh, Lenalee, where do you work?" Allen perked up a bit, curious. Someone had ordered some bacon, and the smell was wonderful, and it woke the boy up a little, like food always did.

Lenalee took a tentative sip of her tea. "The, uh, the hospital."

"Really?" Allen inquired, his eyes full of curiosity. He had never met someone so important. "Are you a doctor?"

"N-no, nothing that important," Lenalee smiled humbly back, though there was a wistfulness about it. "Just...desk work, you know?"

"But one day..." Lavi commented, and then heaved a sigh. "One sec."

He turned around in the booth and, leaning over into the next seat, hovered above the couple dining there. "Could I borrow your potatoes?" He asked, pointing towards the couple's half-eaten hash browns, and, without waiting for an answer, he snatched up the fiesta-ware plates from the table. "Thank you."

The hash browns were unceremoniously dumped into Lavi's shirt pocket as Allen stared agape at him, disgusted.

"Lavi...that was disgusting. That's an awful habit; stealing from other people's plates-- I'm sorry! He just doesn't know..." Lenalee called to the appalled customers in the next booth. The man's mouth hung open and his date had frozen as she reached for her glass of water.

"Hey, if I'm gonna walk thirty miles to Campbell-nowhere, I need my nourishment," Lavi responded stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest, fishing more hash browns out of his pocket and stuffing them into his mouth.

"That's unsanitary..." Allen said, his mouth slack and his eye twitching.

-oxoxoxoxo-

"So, how far _is_ Campbell from here, exactly?" Allen asked, picking up his pace to catch up with his two fellow undead reapers on the busy street.

Ten minutes out of the Komfy Kitchen café and onto the street found the company a total of five blocks from where they started off. The sky was a clear-- a cloudy kind of mood, like it was often in the city. People bustled in and out of shops, to work, and to other activities. And Lavi had already gone through half of his potatoes.

"Well...it's up past North Street and the hospital," Lavi answered through another mouthful. "By foot, I'd say it'll take at least...four hours."

"Four hours?"

"It's not that bad, Allen, I promise," said Lenalee over her shoulder to the white-haired boy. "We can take our time-- Lavi, the light's _red_!"

Lavi paused in mid-step, one foot in the crosswalk of the car-busy street, horns honking, and shrugged an innocent "whaaat?" motion.

"Really, one day, you're going to kill yourself..." Lenalee sighed.

The morning progressed uneventfully-- or, at least, as uneventful as a trio of grim reapers can travel.

There was a car accident about an hour down the road, backing up all traffic-- Lavi chuckled as they past and elbowed Allen in the ribs, his only emerald eye glinting, and whispered, "Looks like Yu will be busy."

Allen asked, "Why?" and Lavi gave a grin.

"A reaper's gotta do his job," he told him.

Lenalee ducked into a thrift shop for about ten minutes, leaving Lavi to harass Allen, and when she came out she found Allen's hair to be unpleasantly ruffled from what Lavi declared was a rite of passage-- aka: ten minutes of noogies.

"What did you buy, Lenalee?" Allen asked, smoothing down his hair as Lavi chuckled softly beside him. She smiled and held up a used pair of slightly rusty ice skates. "What are those for?"

"Oh, just a sort of hobby, I guess," she smiled back.

At the corner of first and Lynburry, the company about half way on their journey, and his potatoes long gone, Lavi suggested that they stop for ice cream.

"What? But--" Allen protested, being dragged into the nearest ice cream parlor.

"C'mon, Beansprout! It's still a long haul there!"

Allen ended up getting vanilla, which, after another ten minutes of choosing his own flavor, Lavi announced was, "Terribly boring. Fifty-two flavors and _that's_ what you get?" as he took a taste of his own repulsive sour orange licorice ripple, and Lenalee shook her head at the two boys over her mint chocolate chunk.

Lavi, Allen mused, was sometimes altogether too bright for him; his smiles shone with constant optimism, he was personable by nature, and Allen was naturally drawn to him as a person. It was easy to like Lavi, but Allen couldn't shake the feeling that there was something that wasn't sincere about him.

He shrugged it off and instead laughed as Lavi dropped his ice cream on the ground, and then proceeded to whine about it.

It was late when they hit the main road from the city.

Lavi looked around at the intersection, slightly confused. "This...isn't right..."

"Oh, _please_ don't tell me that we're lost..." Allen groaned. A reaper without lunch and little else besides an ice cream cone was not a happy one. Even one without Allen's enormous appetite.

"No," said Lenalee. "Look, over there. That's Campbell, isn't it?"

The space she pointed to was a mass of houses, block upon block upon block. Lavi whistled. "Yep, that's Campbell. Pure suburbia."

The area consisted of houses, and not much else-- each house was only almost-identical to its neighbor. Trees or scrub or a lawn separated the houses from one another.

Once inside the development, it took another hour or two to locate Brokebrook Drive, mainly because Lavi couldn't walk in a straight line, and kept taking detours and "shortcuts". (Which actually turned out to be more like long cuts.)

Finally the trio found themselves at the doorstep of 421 Brokebrook Drive, out of breath only because Lavi decided to find another street with only twenty minutes left and they had to run around to find the correct street.

"What time is it?" Lenalee asked, looking to the darkening sky.

Allen checked his watch, hunched over and out of breath, his hands on his knees for support. "Seven...forty-six, it says."

"Bingo! Right on time," laughed Lavi, catching his breath. He stood upright, tugging his clothes back into a presentable form. "Ready for lesson number two, Beansprout?"

Allen just stood at a loss until Lavi pushed the doorbell.

"Lavi, what are you--" Allen hissed in a slight panic.

"Just watch," he responded.

The doorbell echoed throughout the house, and from inside came the call of "Just a minute!" and clunking steps. More clunking was heard before the door opened to reveal a very flustered middle-age man.

For a second he looked confused, looking around at the trio of grim reapers. He was shorter than all of them. "Can I help you?"

"Ah, yes," Lavi spoke, assuming a rather business-like manner. "An anonymous source has been complaining about a strange smell emanating from your household. You wouldn't mind us investigating a little, would you?"

"Oh, n-no, of course not!" The little man sputtered, opening his door wider to accept them inside. "I have nothing to hide--nothing at all."

"Thank you," Lavi said politely, and entered the man's home, and throwing a furtive one-eyed wink back at Allen as he followed.

The man started to babble as he accepted them into his house. "Well, I was just cleaning out the attic-- silly, I know-- but my wife pestered me and pestered me to do it, and now on my only day off in four months, she tells me, 'Wilbur, you clean out that attic today, or else so help me...' and when she gets angry, I don't want to find out what so help me is. So I start to clean the attic-- boxes, and boxes..."

Allen looked around the house, the man leading them from the front door, Lavi nodding every so often to show he was listening, even though he was clearly not.

The house wasn't grand, by any means, but it was decorated lavishly with portraits every few meters, a grandfather clock, and ornate plates and other glass collections adorned the walls. Every inch of the house was a white-washed hue, or a pale tan.

"...and I found something up there, though I won't mention it to you, Sir, but it certainly smelled-- do you suppose that's what it was?"

"Yes, I'm sure that's what it was, Mr. Branshed," Lavi said. Allen vaguely wondered where he had heard his name, then remembered the post-its and the names written on them. "There seems to be nothing out of order here."

"Ah, yes, thank you Sir, thank you..." the man rubbed his hands together nervously. "Would you enjoy some tea, then, company?"

Lavi looked to the other two. "I think we can do that, Mr. Branshed," And he placed a hand on Wilbur's shoulder.

That sealed the deal. Allen could see the faint imprint of Lavi's hand as he moved it away. Mr. Wilbur Branshed was marked.

"Very well, very well, I'll go put on some water...Oh! Excuse me, I left a box on the stair-- please, sit down, sit down..." His stubby little legs carried him up the tan staircase, and he disappeared.

Lavi checked the grandfather clock sitting in the corner of the room. "Seven fifty-one," he announced. "One minute."

They heard the grunt of Wilbur Branshed hefting the box into the air. "Coming, Sirs and Ma'am, coming..." he said, his voice tried, and they heard him thump every step. "If you could, put on the tea, then-- Oof!"

Mr. Wilbur Branshed slipped on the stairs, tumbling down, down, his box thumping down with him. He hit the turn in the stair, slamming up against a cabinet sitting there-- no doubt placed there by his loving wife-- and the box fell on top of him, too.

"I'm...alright..." Came the groan of Mr. Branshed. "No need to-- ah--"

The cabinet-- filled with priceless china plates-- teetered, and as Mr. Wilbur Branshed exhaled his surprised last breath, the cabinet crashed down upon him.

Wilbur Branshed did not stir again.

"Well...that was quite dramatic," said Lavi, tearing his eyes away from the grandfather clock, which now read seven fifty-two.

Allen stood slack-jawed for a moment, and then raced to the staircase, sliding a little on the rug. Remnants of dishes lay everywhere, things from the box he carried down lay scattered, and there lay Wilbur in the middle; crushed underneath the weight of the china cabinet.

"Oh dear...Oh dear, oh dear," Mr. Branshed's voice came from next to Allen, wispy and thin. The white-haired reaper jumped at his voice, looking startled at the appearance of the ghost of the deceased Wilbur. The ghost dabbed at his forehead with a see-through cloth. "The missus will be ever-so-angry..."

"I think I'll go put on that tea now, if you don't mind," said Lenalee, and made her way to the linoleum-plastered kitchen.

-oxoxoxoxo-

"Where did you get this, Mr. Branshed?" Lenalee asked, taking a sip of the hot liquid in her off-white coffee mug. "It's really quite delicious."

"Oh..." said the ghost of timid Wilbur, sitting in a chair at the old wooden table, his nebulous form jittering nervously. "My...my wife, you know...catalogues she loves so."

Lenalee smiled kindly. "She must be...a very nice person."

"Y-yes..." Wilbur stuttered, and the girl took another sip.

Allen sat next to the small ghost at the table, feeling out of place, his tea steaming and untouched before him in a pale purple cup. The crunching of porcelain and glass from around the corner announced Lavi's attempts to scavenge the valuable china from the wreckage on the staircase, picking around splintered wood and the body of a middle-aged man.

"Look! I found one whole-- I can make a pretty penny off this...Wilbur-- _buddy_-- mind if I take this off your hands?" Lavi asked, poking his head into the kitchen, holding up a relatively unmarred china plate.

"N-no...not at all..." answered the ghost distractedly.

"Great," Lavi grinned, slipping back.

"P-please sirs, ma'am-- aren't I supposed to be ascending? M-moving on?" the ghost asked, leaning anxiously forward.

Lenalee took a satisfying sip of her tea, and in that moment, Allen was reminded strongly of her brother and his coffee. "Yes, ah..." She said, setting her cup down. "We have to let your soul..._settle_ a little first."

"What do you mean?" Asked Allen, beating Wilbur to the punch. He cupped his mug in his hands, letting the heat emanate into them, but still didn't take a sip.

"Well...Death needs a little time to sort itself out. And we, in the meantime, give the soul time to accept and to...move on. Settle," she answered.

The other reaper dropped his gaze. "Oh."

Allen was in a moral crossroads, and Allen, being a boy driven by and held firmly to his morals and beliefs, found that the guilt associated with this _job_-- as Lavi so tactfully put it-- caused him much turmoil.

It was beginning to feel a lot like he was an accomplice to murder; breaking and entering, lying, and then doing nothing as a man _died_-- It seemed like grim reapers had more in common with hit men than the Grim Reaper himself.

Allen sighed.

The company remained in silence a little longer, Lavi's occasional noises of victory and sorrow the only sounds in the house as he continued to sort through china and remnants of attic boxes.

Until the nebulous ghost spoke again. "How long does this..._moving on_ take?"

"If you've no regrets...then it should be soon," Lenalee told him, giving the dead man a small smile.

The grandfather clock boomed eight in the corner, and the house suddenly darkened.

A silvery light floated into existence, growing in intensity, dancing for a moment in front of Wilbur Branshed, and then exploding into shards of light. Allen jerked his head upwards and leapt out of his chair, startled by the sudden darkness, but even more so at the sudden light.

The ghost's beady eyes widened in surprise, but his feet made no sound as he leapt out of his chair, and he stared into the vast brightness that was growing, shaping itself into something else.

"Could it be...?" Wilbur breathed a non-existent breath.

"Wha-what is that!?" Allen hissed, almost a yell, staring into the lightshow.

"His lights," answered Lenalee, calm, smiling at Wilbur. She hadn't so much as batted an eyelash.

Mr. Wilbur Branshed turned to the undead company, his pale eyes swimming with ghostly tears. "It's the most...beautiful thing...I've ever seen."

The shining silvery light had reshaped itself into a gorge, a mighty drop, a sheer cliff-- right there in the kitchen. Waves beat down rocks at the bottom of the light-cliff, crashing and roaring hungrily.

Allen gaped, and Lenalee smiled widely. "We aim to please."

"Do I...just go, then?" Asked the man, his eyes alight with an eagerness and life he hadn't known for years.

Lenalee nodded, and Lavi poked around the corner again, leaning against the door frame. "Good luck on the other side, Wilbur. You wouldn't mind me..._borrowing_ some things in the Land of the Living, would you? Material possessions and all that jazz..."

"Oh no...take whatever you like!" The ghost said back, his silvery pale form and the silver glowing of the cliffs fading together.

Lenalee waved, and Lavi gave a thankful nod, and Wilbur Branshed jumped into the silvery lights without a second thought, right off the ethereal cliffs, and he vanished into a silver mist.

Almost as quickly as it had come, the lights came together again, ghost and cliffs gone now, and popped out of existence.

"Wha...what just _happened_?" Whispered Allen, almost afraid to speak, finding himself braced against the wall.

"I told you; those were his lights," Lenalee said, standing up and putting her now-empty mug in the sink, running water into it. "To take him to where he's going."

"Where...where's that, exactly?" Asked Allen. Curious, he even dared, "Heaven?"

"Maybe."

"Shangri-La. Nirvana. Heaven. The Great Beyond-- whatever you what to call it," said Lavi from the doorway, still leaning against it. "It's the same thing. You're dead."

Allen gave a little nervous laugh. "Is everyone's lights like that?"

"Oh no..." answered Lenalee with a laugh. "Some are much brighter. More festive. Everyone's is different-- Death comes to you in the form of something familiar."

"Come along now, little lost lamb," Lavi chuckled at Allen's puzzled face. "It's time to collect our salary."

-oxoxoxoxo-

Night had fallen as the reapers found themselves in the small dusty attic, the oldest rummaging through various cardboard storage boxes and the youngest standing awkwardly near the attic's window, feeling rather out of place. Street lights illuminated the urban streets outside, and the rush of cars and traffic could be heard somewhere off in the distance. People in their own cars rumbled by leisurely, finding their way back home.

"How much would you think I could make off of this, Beansprout?" Asked Lavi, pulling up a particularly dusty picture from the large box. He wiped off the grimy glass with an equally grimy sleeve and held it up for the other boy to assess. It depicted a rather pudgy old lady in a dress, perched on a regal-looking chair.

"I don't know, Lavi..." snapped Allen somewhat wearily, preoccupied with the window.

The redhead grumbled and slid the picture back into the box, obviously hoping for priceless pieces of art or something of the like. Shuffling ensued as he sifted through the box's contents.

Lenalee shuffled around the attic, her footsteps muffled by the thin layer of dust. She stopped. "Do you guys...hear something?"

"Nope," Lavi answered, preoccupied, moving onto another box.

The girl drifted towards the window and Allen, listening intently. "Well..._listen_," she persisted.

Allen complied, straining his ears to hear this unknown noise, trying to get off the subject of Lavi's obvious lack morals.

"You're right," the boy said after a moment. Carried by the breeze came a howling whining sound, growing louder every passing second. "What do you suppose it is--?"

But by this time, the noise had grown very loud now, and very close, and there came the screeching halt of tires, and the slamming of car doors, and before Allen could say it out loud, a speakerphone boomed from somewhere in the front of the house.

Lavi froze, crouched on the ground.

"This is the police. Come out with your hands up-- we have you surrounded."

The photo held loosely in Lavi's hands slipped, much like Allen's heart into his stomach, and it crashed onto the dusty floor. The redhead cursed and stood up quickly, the sirens of the police cars in full howl now.

"Someone must've seen us go in...Heard the crash..." Lenalee whispered, not daring to speak any louder.

Allen's heart was beating about a mile a minute. He had never had an encounter with the police before-- and now, after he died, this was going to be it? Would they shoot? Would they arrest him? "Wha--what do we do? Oh, God...I can't go to jail...I can't! I'll die!" Allen panicked, not bothering to keep his voice down. (He also conveniently forgot that he was already dead.)

Lavi was equally hysterical. "_I _can't go to jail-- I've done my time! I promise! If I get caught, they'll pin all of those little _borrowings_ on me-- I'll spend my _life_ in there! Forever! I can't! I won't! I refuse! Oh, bugger--" Lavi looked around the small little attic, his judgment skewed by panic and hysteria. "Oh, bloody hell..." Someone was beating at the front door.

Allen, lost in his own scenario, let his mind race. The police would arrest him, take him in, separate him from the others, for sure, they'll question one Allen Walker and find that he had died three days before, and then they'd take him in and maybe experiment on him, find out why he was still flesh-and-blood-and-warm, and even_ he _didn't know the answer to that...Or maybe they'd just throw him in some jail cell until he rotted for real...And maybe there'd be a trial and...

A crash startled the white-haired grim reaper, his heart jumping back into his chest, adrenaline fueling his body on impulses. He whipped around.

Lavi was gone. The window was shattered.

"Lavi?!" Allen yelled.

Lenalee rushed over to look below, leaning carefully out the broken window.

"Oh _God_, Lavi...not the window..." Lenalee hissed exasperatedly, and Allen ran over to the window, too, skidding a little on the glass debris.

His legs shook. Out the window, two stories down, lay the body of Lavi in the neighbor's garden, unmoving. "Oh my God..."

"C'mon-- we have to hurry," Lenalee said, tugging on the reaper as he stared wide-eyed and slack-jawed, completely in shock. "There's a backdoor."

Lavi had jumped out the window to his _death_, and Lenalee didn't even blink. Allen sputtered incoherently, and the girl pulled him down the stairs, his feet having trouble finding the steps as he stumbled down them. In spite of the shock, Allen acknowledged that Lenalee was perhaps the fastest runner he had ever encountered.

They found their way outside, somehow, racing through the backdoor, slamming it shut behind them, the police still shouting at the front. They'd open the door sooner or later, and find the dead body, and...

Allen breathed heavily, and Lenalee hopped a low fence, into the neighbor's yard, where Lavi's body lay, Allen huffing after her.

His breath soon caught in his throat.

Lavi was _skewered. _On the _picket fence_. Suspended _three feet _off the ground.

Allen felt ill.

"Oh...God..." he stumbled over to his friend, his legs like jelly. "L-Lavi..."

The redhead groaned, and his eyes flittered open. "Go on...without me, Beansprout..." He went limp.

"L-Lavi..." Allen felt tears sting his eyes, and he crept closer. The other boy did not move.

"Oh-- c'mon," Lenalee scolded, rolling her eyes. "Stop messing around. We're still in trouble here, and I have you know that your thoughtless actions might've cost us our clean getaway. Get up."

For a moment, Lavi made no movement, and Allen was about to yell a teary defense for his dead friend, but then the redhead cracked open his one green eye slyly.

"...You're a serious killjoy, Lenalee," he said, and forced himself up, sliding the picket fence shish kabob out of his stomach. "Help me out, at least?"

Allen gaped, and Lenalee sighed again, giving her hand to Lavi as he helped himself off the picket fence. "But...but..." Allen stuttered, falling to his knees.

Lavi hopped down, a hole in his stomach through with a piece of white-painted wood still hanging there, his shirt stained with blood. "Bugger. You know, I rather liked this shirt..." The oldest reaper stopped, and went rigid. "One second." He bent over and coughed, his hand coming away with something shining and silvery. "Ah, man...not right..." He shook his hand, and the bent nails fell to the ground.

"You...you..." Allen's faced shone white in the moonlight. He twitched.

"It's okay, Beansprout," Lavi laughed. "The undead can't die again, you know. Lenalee..." he whined, turning to the girl, who was looking up the police's location, their sirens and lights still going, the night ablaze.

"What?" She hissed.

"It's not coming ouuuut..." He whined again, tugging on the mother-of-all-splinters that skewered him through the stomach.

Lenalee made a face, and walked over to help him. "Really, Lavi, one day you're actually going to _learn_ something about the consequences of your actions and you'll be so stunned..."

There was a thump, and both Lenalee and Lavi looked over curiously at the source of the noise.

Allen Walker's face met mister ground as he fainted, and the last thing he saw was two vaguely reaper-shaped figures rush over to him, the red and blue sirens still howling away.

--End. Six.--


	7. Read 'em and Reap

oxo

--Dead Like Us--

Chapter Seven:

_Read 'em and Reap_

oxoxoxoxo

"Lenalee...can't I drive?"

"No, Lavi-- do you see a car here? How do you suppose when even make our way out of here, huh? The police are still here-- we're about as suspicious as suspicious can get..."

"But I'm _older_! I have seniority!"

A groan. "Your selective hearing is setting in again-- and technically, you're not."

Allen made a noise that stuck in his throat, and he blinked wearily in consciousness, his undead mind in a fog. Allen Walker found, to his immense surprise, himself staring and the retreating scenery backwards, and a strange sense of vertigo hit him. Trees weren't supposed to be upside down and bouncing away, were they?

A slight jostle made Allen squeak.

"Lenalee! The Beansprout's alive!" Came Lavi's voice.

Allen blinked. "L-Lavi...?" What had happened? There was the reap...and the attic...and then the police...He started. "Lavi! Are you alright?"

"Whoa there..." came Lavi's voice.

Allen's world tipped upside down, and his head met with the ground for the second time that night.

"Lavi!" Came Lenalee's reprimand from somewhere ahead. "Don't drop the poor boy!"

"Sorry, sorry," said Lavi, and Allen managed to right himself on the ground. "You alright?"

"Y-yeah..." Allen answered, rubbing his head where he had fallen on it. "W-what about you?"

"Huh?" Lavi asked, surprised, and jogged a little to catch up with their female companion, Allen stumbling afterward. "Oh, you mean _that_..." He laughed, and they half-jogged through the darkness. "I'm fine. No boo-boo's."

"How?" Allen asked.

"We may not be able to scale fifty-foot buildings in a single leap or run faster than a speeding train," laughed Lavi, coming up beside Lenalee. "But reapers never grow older than what we were when we died, and we heal faster than anything. And, of course, we can't die. Again."

"You mean...we never get older?" A nod from Lavi answered his question as Allen dropped behind the two more experienced reapers. "And we...we can't die by picket fence impalement?" A laugh and a nod this time. "Could I...have a list of these things?" Allen sighed. "They're really hard to remember."

"You get used to it," answered Lavi with a laugh. "After a while. Just remember the cardinal rule-- _everyone_ dies. Some just... much later than others."

"We're either going to have to walk back to the Kitchen or hitch a ride..." Lenalee half-interrupted the other two's conversation.

Lavi perked up noticeably, obviously eager, and Allen watched him curiously as he literally bounced in front of the girl. "Oh! Oh, Lenalee, can't I?"

The girl sighed, stopping their progress, the trio standing in the middle of the deserted street. She finally relented grudgingly. "Alright, Lavi..."

He pumped a fist. "Yes!" His emerald eyes on fire, he scanned the street. "Look, that one-- shouldn't be too hard, and by the looks of it, no one'll miss it very much."

He pointed with a finger at an old truck-- rust-red with age and hardly a discernable piece that _wasn't _rusted or dented.

Allen arched an eyebrow. "Lavi, what're you going to do with that car...?" He stopped as Lavi stalked it like it was prey.

"I swear..." Lenalee sighed.

"Is he going to steal it?" Allen asked anxiously, fretting with his hands.

"The correct term is 'boosting'," said the redhead in question, from somewhere of the vicinity of the other side of the truck. "And it's a necessary evil."

But the look on Lavi's face Allen pictured made him think that it was far from unenjoyable.

After a few minutes of tinkering in the car's underside, the old truck sputtered to life, and Lavi hopped up from underneath it, oil stained, but none the worse for wear. He opened the side door and clambered into the seat, like a little boy eager to get some ice cream.

"Come on," Lenalee said, tugging on the white haired boy's sleeve.

Allen slipped into the back seat cautiously, being careful to close the door softly. It smelled like tobacco smoke and cheese, and Allen couldn't figure out what else, but he didn't like it. Lavi twisted the steering wheel violently in the front seat, making exaggerated little racecar noises, causing the old truck's tires turn and squeak in protest, unmoving. The younger reaper clutched at his seatbelt nervously, being sure to tighten it as far as it would go.

"Move over now, Lavi," demanded Lenalee, coming into the car via the driver's seat door.

Lavi blanched. "What? But, Lenalee-- you promised that I could drive!"

The girl smiled. "I said nothing of the sort. Do you even have anything _resembling_ a driver's license?"

Allen thought that if they were indeed going to steal the car, then having a legitimate driver's license would be the least of their problems if they got pulled over, but he said nothing, deciding to keep this fact to himself.

Lavi continued to stare agape as Lenalee usurped him from his driver's seat position, and she gently pushed him out of the way and into the passenger's seat. He gave her a look akin to that same child who was just told that couldn't have his favorite kind of ice cream, and that instead they were going to grumpy grandma's house.

"You liar..." Lavi mumbled under his breath, and Allen broke a smile despite himself.

Lenalee took the steering wheel and carted them safely away, the old truck groaning a few times but moving steadily, and with the car trucking along in drive, the three reapers left Campbell without another disturbance.

-oxoxoxoxo-

The trio of Exorcists walked another two blocks as they reached town, abandoning the old rusting truck in the dark of some alleyway, and Lenalee even wrote an apology note somewhere, in case they ever found the poor car--though Lavi had advised against it-- and once again they found themselves in the fluorescent blinding light of the Komfy Kitchen.

The restaurant's door chimed as the trio stepped in, and Lavi -- redheaded gentleman that he was-- held the door for his companions, laughing his usual laugh.

Komui sat at their usual table, alone, absently stirring his coffee, pouring over his notebook.

"Chief!" Lavi raced to the table, first to slip into the booth across from Komui, the faux-leather plastic coverings squeaking as he did so. People shot him wide-eyed glances as he came into the building, his shirt still stained a crimson-red from the night's events with attics and picket fences.

Allen sidled in next to him and Lenalee took the open seat next to her brother.

"How'd it go?" Asked Komui.

"Amazing!" Lavi was the first to respond. "Dead guy, tidy reap-- _loaded--_ no trouble at all--"

"Until the police showed up," Lenalee interrupted, shooting Lavi a look. He shrunk a little.

"They did?" The older man's eyebrows disappeared under his beret.

"Well, _yeah_..." said Lavi. "But we managed!"

"You got skewered on a fence! Impaled!" Allen blurted out. "That's how you 'manage'?!"

Komui laughed with a nod to Lavi's shirt. "So that's why..."

"But did you _see_ that getaway?" Lavi whooped, jumping up a little in his seat. "At least fifty cops on our tail, sirens blaring-- valiantly, I tried to get them off, feeling the power of that Camero in my hands, swerving traffic and Lenalee was wailing away--"

"I was not!"

Lavi ignored her. "--and then there was an explosion, and--"

He couldn't help it. Despite his shock and dismay at the night's events, as Lavi recounted that night's embellished harrowing events and fabricated car chase, Allen began to laugh. It wasn't his stifled chuckle or dry forced bark, but the kind of laugh that rolls and keeps you in stitches.

Lenalee paused in her efforts to keep Lavi's story straight, and looked to in Allen surprise, but then her face broke, and she smiled-- a very different smile than the small polite ones that she gave.

"...and the zoo blew up-- monkeys _everywhere_, but they're fine, I reckon-- and the police still on our-- hey...hey Beansprout, why're you laughing?"

"I'm...sorry," Allen managed in between chuckles. "I really...don't know why I find this so funny...!" He collapsed into more laughter.

Lavi blinked, confused for a moment, and then his own face spilt into a wide grin, and he shoved Allen gently, playfully, and Allen continued to chuckle.

"I'm glad you are...getting used to our line of work," chuckled Komui as Allen's laughter began to fade. "Because, well..."

He pulled out his notebook, and from the inside cover, he peeled off something yellow and square and sticky, and pushed it across the table at the boy.

The smile slid off Allen's face. "This...is mine?"

Komui nodded, examining the other's face closely, the boy's eyes only on the post-it.

Allen looked up, his face crestfallen, brow knit with worry. His heart had yet again fallen into his stomach. "Why...I mean...Already? I thought..." He trailed off.

Komui gave him a look over his glasses. "Death, like Time, waits for no man. Sit down. Think. I'll be here to pick you up for your appointment tomorrow morning, Allen. Don't be late."

At that, he picked up his things and scooted out of the booth, giving Lenalee a meaningful glance as she got up to allow him passage out.

And Komui was gone.

Allen carefully picked up the post-it, handling it as if it might rear back and bite, or, reversely, shatter at his touch.

Lavi and Lenalee conversed awkwardly to fill the silence setting in, but their talking fell deaf on Allen's ears.

The boy's fingers traced the name written on the piece of paper-- the yellow death sentence-- and mouthed his victim's name softly as his companions spoke over him. _L. Loneth._ An initial and a last name. The rest of the post-it was all numbers and places, but Allen could not read past the name.

Time passed. Eternity seemed to yawn in front of him, a daunting and uncertain future. Allen waited, slumped in his seat.

Lavi and Lenalee got up to leave at quarter to eleven.

"C'mon Beansprout, time to go home," Lavi said, pushing the other boy out of the booth, but Allen only stood up and let him go, saying, "I'm just...going to stay here for a moment, alright? I'll catch up."

Lavi looked at him, hesitating for a moment, but then relented. "Alright, Beansprout. Just be sure to remember the way home."

He nodded, and Lavi and Lenalee left the café.

Allen, of course, did not return to the apartment, nor did he sleep at all that night. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and feelings, an incessant battle of good and evil.

_Was it right?_ His thoughts tightened themselves into knots, twisting and writhing like snakes in a pit.

Morning found him still at the booth, his head on the table-- nothing but a cup of untouched tea that Reever had brought him, worried, at one in the morning.

By then, his post-it had been memorized. He had come up with a dozen deaths L. Loneth could die. He had made up a thousand lives for him.

Even though Allen did not know the man, he already mourned for him.

Komui appeared at seven till seven, and Allen blearily looked up as he joined the boy.

"Have a good sleep?" He asked, and Allen nodded absently. "Right. To the car now, we mustn't be late."

Komui's car was not sleek, or pale, like Death's steed should be, but a compact kind of car, a deep blue in color, but Allen paid little attention to the design of it. He resigned himself to the passenger's seat with little gusto, and Komui slid in next to him, taking the keys from his pocket.

The car rumbled to life with a turn of the keys, and it coasted along the busy side streets and intersections with ease. Allen did not notice so much; his eyes were still glued to the post-it.

A few moments ofsilent tensiongave way to Komui's voice.

"I remember," Komui said, breaking Allen out of his thoughts, and lifting the cloud of tension temporarily. Allen jumped a little, turning to the bespectacled man. "I remember Lenalee's first one. It was...a girl, barely older than Lenalee herself. The poor girl had been in the hospital most of her life." Komui's expression remained fixed. "Lenalee was heartbroken. But the girl had been suffering for so long...it was kind of Death to come. She died peacefully."

The white-haired boy said nothing, and he made no movement.

Silence was broken only by the sounds of cars outside, by traffic noises, and city-goings. A red light stopped them momentarily. Allen vaguely began to wonder what Lavi and Lenalee were doing to pass their time that day when Komui decided to speak again.

"You have to understand, Allen," Komui began again. "Death is not nearly as chaotic as you think it is. Everything has a place. Death has categories, and I feel obligated to inform you of yours before you take a soul-- your charges are the same as your death. Outside influences; it's the broadest category. Accidents, murders-- they fall to you. There's a rhyme and reason to our madness, even though our madness is something even I don't quite understand..."

Allen blinked, looking back down, and he fingered the post-it. So L. Loneth's death was to be an accident? Something that could be avoided?

"It's hard," Komui said with a little smile, as if he understood Allen's grimace perfectly well. "We're human too. Sometimes I wonder if some great force erred in making Death the same as its charges."

"What if...what if there's a mistake?" Allen asked.

Komui didn't respond. The red light turned green, and there was no more opportunity to speak. Allen didn't bother to instigate conversation again, and Komui must've felt that everything that had to be had already been said. The pit in Allen's stomach grew tighter with every passing street corner, and just when he thought it too much to bear, Komui abruptly turned left, and he pulled into a dirt parking lot.

A construction zone.

"Here we are," Komui killed the engine. "Go forth and reap."

Allen looked to him. "You're...you're not coming?"

"This is an Exorcist's job," the older man replied. "It's not mine. You'll do fine-- you've watched Lavi, and though he's about the most inefficient reaper on our team, he's about as good as any to learn the ropes from. Remember to stay on the periphery. You've got ten minutes."

Allen gulped. Without another word, he opened the car door, slammed it shut behind him, and walked out in the construction zone.

"Allen!" Komui called from the open window, and he stopped short. "Remember-- we don't kill. We _save_."

Allen stopped a moment, paused on one leg while the other hovered hesitantly in front of him. Something warm began in his chest, and the snakes in his stomach calmed. The boy flashed a small brave smile backwards, but his voice was weak and cracked as he spoke.

"Right."

Immediately, as he entered through the chain-link fence, the smell of dirt and steel and sweat hit him, and the bustle of the site allowed Allen to slip in undetected.

Dust was kicked up as he walked; jackhammers roared, iron and other metal lay in strips and sheets and bars to one side. A sign announcing that the area was a "Restricted Hard-Hat Danger Zone" was posted on a fence that separated the dusty parking lot from the hazardous fenced-in construction zone.

He scoffed a little inwardly at that-- someone was going to die, with or without a hard hat.

Allen looked around: no one seemed to notice his presence in this place in which he obviously didn't belong. A few early-morning workers roamed, their hats yellow, their clothes uniformly hunter-orange.

Allen, as newly designated Exorcist, blinked, standing in the middle of it, clutching a sticky note that had lost most of its sticky. How was he to find this L. Loneth? He couldn't just go up to every person on the site, asking them what their last names were.

What was the word Komui had used? Periphery. He must stay on the periphery.

Images of Mr. Grim Reaper himself with his scythe and black cloak crept into Allen's mind, and in that moment he felt a pang of compassion towards Death, creeping in the shadows and stalking his charges.

"Oi!" Someone called, and Allen jumped up, his frayed nerves already on edge. Quickly, he whirled around, half-hoping that it was someone come to tell him off, and that this death-hunt would not take place. But his heart sank as the big burly man who had spoken opened his mouth again.

"John Russell-- is that Leo Loneth, there, too?!-- a construction zone, really...This is no playground! Where is your father?"

Allen followed the man's gaze-- this was it! This was his mysterious L. Loneth!-- and then his insides clenched painfully.

Two boys-- on brown-haired, the other lighter-- froze as they were caught.

"Dad said we could investigate a little!" whined the brown-haired boy, scooting in closer to his friend. The boy wore something that looked much like an aviator's hat in place of a hard hat. He was young, perhaps only twelve or thirteen. The other boy looked just as young. "Dad's the boss-- if he says that we can look around, then we can!

"I don't care about your father, John, if you don't get back here..." the burly man said through gritted teeth, taking no heed to the boy's warning.

Allen licked his dry lips. If the dark-haired boy was John...the blond must be Leo.

Leo Loneth.

Of all his scenarios, Allen had never imaged that it would be a little boy. He was hardly old enough to have started living his life.

Suddenly, the post-it felt like incriminating evidence against him, sullying his fingers. Allen let it drop. It made no noise as it hit the ground, but to Allen, it felt as if the anchor of weight that had resided in the incriminating post-it had jumped into his chest instead of falling with the little yellow paper.

Had Allen been watching the clock, he would have observed that it was eight-twenty-seven, and that it was exactly twenty-three seconds before his charge was to expire. But he was not, and the seconds counted down.

The man and the boy continued to shout at each other, the older man's voice strong against the small boy's as he argued that his father had given them permission, and the blond Leo shrank backwards, looking as guilty and frightened as Allen felt. But another voice cut through the dusty construction zone, much louder than the brown-haired boy and the burly construction worker.

"_Watch out!" _

There was a snap of cable, the heart-wrenching adrenaline-pumping groan of metal scraping against metal, and a cement tube came crashing downwards from the very top of the structure which they were working on.

Below, the children stood.

Leo Loneth did not move. He hadn't the time. His friend-- the boy named John-- yelled something, but Allen didn't hear, and neither did Leo.

Allen didn't think. Allen didn't stop to ponder his choice in actions.

What echoed in his head were Komui's last words.

_We save._

And he leapt into the fray, knocking the boy-who-was-to-die over on his feet, narrowly avoiding the falling pillar of concrete.

As the dust settled and the astonished voices and screams faded away, he could hear the breathing of someone who was not supposed to be alive cradled in his arms, and Allen knew he had done something that would be considered a "no-no" in reaper etiquette.

He had saved someone from dying.

--End. Seven.--


	8. Helter Skelter

A/N: Faster than usual, eh? I made _my_ goal. :D Enjoy this next chapter-- it went several times through the rewriting process, but I think I finally nailed it.

oxo

--Dead Like Us--

Chapter Eight:

_Helter Skelter_

oxoxoxoxo

There was coughing and sputtering and the falling of dust, and Allen's mind reverberated with the sounds of his own heartbeat . Disbelief crippled his thinking process.

_He had saved someone._

The boy Leo wheezed a little from underneath the reaper, and Allen lifted him up carefully. He was surprised to find that he himself wasn't out of breath at all, nor did he feel any pain from where he had fallen.

"A-are you alright?" Allen questioned, concern leaping into his eyes-- Leo Loneth was dirtied, and he _seemed_ in good shape. But when you're death, you can't be too careful.

The boy nodded weakly, his wide, watery eyes tracing the outline of the enormous cement tube that loomed overhead like a morbid fence post. Allen could imagine the faintest of shadows lingering about the cement tubing if he tried hard enough.

"I'm--" Leo began.

"Leo!" The boy's aviator-hatted friend rushed up to him, embracing the other boy in a hug choked with tears. "Leo,_ Leo_-- are you okay? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I really am--"

"It's okay, John, it's okay...I'm _okay_," Leo responded, his midsection squeezed tighter by his friend.

Dusty chaos reigned for some minutes as the workers tried to figure out what had happened, and the dirt kicked up by the falling cement veiled everything in a cloak of further confusion.

Allen backed off from the scene, his mind still in the cool grip of adrenaline, disbelief, and astonishment.

Could this really be happening? Could Death really save someone from dying? A cold sweat marred his brow now that he took the time to notice, and his hands shook slightly from the adrenaline rush.

Various workers bustled around them, making sure no one else was injured-- a sea of yellow hard-hats and hunter-orange vests. Someone had pulled out a cell phone, and another big bear-of-a-man had called up some head honcho on his radio.

Allen couldn't stay here. At any minute, he expected to be incriminated for this almost-crime; the sticky note that read _L. Loneth _was somewhere still on the grounds, and with a little bit of modern forensics, a murder attempt could be pointed towards him.

Right?

He turned on his heel-- Allen didn't know where to go, but he couldn't stay, _wouldn't_ stay. He longed to return to his apartment, to school, to anywhere that this could never have happened-- and then something caught his sleeve.

Startled, he looked downwards, and Allen found himself looking into the teary eyes of the boy John.

"You," he rasped, a slight hiccup interrupting his speech. The workers at this point had gathered around the cement tubing to investigate what had caused it to fall. Allen hoped that there wouldn't be some ectoplasmic essence-of-death lingering there. "You saved him."

The white-haired boy's eyebrows rose, and something almost like fear jumped into his veins, as if saying it aloud sealed his fate. "Y-yeah." He managed through a dry mouth with a tongue that felt like it had turned into cotton.

"Thank you," John whispered. "Thank you."

Allen didn't know why he felt the need to protest, but he couldn't stop the words tumble from his mouth. "No, no, I--"

"Allen." The voice made him freeze. A figure had come up behind them two, and in the light of the new day, his shadow stood tall, towering over them both.

Allen could feel Komui's polite smile radiating off of him. _Did he already know that the death hadn't been executed?_

Komui stepped forward and bent down to address John eye-to-eye. "Hello there, good sir. May I borrow your friend here?" John nodded timidly, shrinking in the shadow of the taller man. "Much obliged."

Komui gave Allen a pointed look, and he was spurred on to follow the older man with as much gusto of that of a man walking toward the guillotine.

They walked backwards to the parking lot again-- Komui with an extra spring in his step and Allen with a fiery guilt in his stomach.

"So," Komui began, setting a lazy pace, smiling. "How'd it go?"

"It..." Allen began, fumbling for the words to explain. "It didn't."

Komui stopped altogether. "What did you do?"

His tone was dangerous, but Allen continued. "I...saved him."

The man heaved an exasperated sigh and removed his glasses, pinching the crook of his nose between two fingers. "You really take words to heart, don't you, Beansprout?"

"You said...you said that we _save_, Komui, you said that we could--" Allen began, raising his voice above the hoarse whisper it had been.

"No," Komui interrupted forcefully. "No, that's not what I meant."

"W-what does it matter if I took his soul or not?" Allen half-shouted. The anger boiling inside him mimicked that that had occurred in the park with Lavi, but this time it was laced with a resentment that Allen felt was well justified. "He's alive! He'll live a long life still-- unless you _people_ foresee another accident with him!"

The word _people_ he spat out, contemptuous almost, making sure to put as much space between him and Komui.

But Komui continued on, and something like hurt and a little like shame flashed across his face, stopping to linger in his eyes. "That's eighty years that he won't want. That's eighty years he'll be dead at heart."

Anger boiled down to nothing but marrow and the memory of a feeling. Allen blanched, and let his shoulders fall. "What...what are you saying?"

Komui's eyes met Allen's steel-gray ones. "Death is nontransferable, Beansprout. You're in no place to be giving and taking. Leo Loneth's name was on the post-it, and his soul wasn't taken. But his soul has still expired. The moment he got up this morning, his fate was sealed." His brow momentarily creased, and Komui spoke his next words slowly and carefully. "His soul will wither and rot inside of him. He will be worse than dead. Do you wish do condemn him to that?"

"No," Allen croaked. "No-- you said that we could _save_ them!"

"I didn't mean it that way, Allen. I'm _sorry_. We save them from something far worse than death. But from death itself-- Allen, you can't save them. You can't save _any_ of them. You have to take his soul."

"I...I can't..." Tears stung at Allen's eyes. He closed them to hide this fact from Komui-- he wasn't weak. He hadn't even shed a tear at his own death. "It's not...That's not fair, Komui..."

"I know. I know..."

A quick look back to the construction sight showed John still hovering over Leo, triple-checking that he was really_ really_ alright. A silent sob wracked Allen's body. He looked Komui dead-straight in the eye, trying to rationalize, pleading, but he couldn't -- _wouldn't_-- let even one tear fall. "He's so young, Komui...too young. That's not fair...It's _cruel_."

At this point it wasn't just about Leo. It was about him. About Allen Walker, who died at the hands of a dinosaur skull, at fifteen years of age. That was too cruel a joke for even the universe.

Komui put a hand on Allen's shaking shoulder. "I don't decide who gets to live and who has to die." Komui stole a breath. "I'm sorry Allen. So sorry. But...you have to do it. I can't. No one else can."

Allen shrugged Komui's hand from his shoulder. He neither made eye-contact nor gave the man another sign of acknowledgement again. His mind was resolved.

Quietly, slowly, Allen made his way back to the construction site.

A cool kind of calm settled over the place and Allen. Everything slowed. Construction workers still drifted from place to place, but they were after-images, ghosts, and the grim reaper walked passed them.

Allen was hit with the sudden recognition that all these men would die one day. Of course they would. They had to. They would all grow old and die, and he wouldn't. Maybe he'd be the one to take their souls when they finally passed on, and maybe by then, he himself would be moving on. Everything was an uncertain and terrifying blur at this point.

But he knew what he had to do in this moment.

By the time he reached Leo, sitting alone in the dusty place, it seemed as if ten minutes had passed from the parking lot to where he stood now.

The blond looked upwards as Allen came nearer. His eyes were much duller than they had been previously, and they contained a something that prickled at Allen's spine like a dozen moths beating their dusty wings, like the sensation that something had been lost, but you can't ever remember what.

Someone had given the boy a blanket in the reaper's absence, and he appeared even smaller than before as he wrapped himself in it.

"Hello," Allen's voiced cracked. Leo didn't respond to his greeting, but nodded slightly in recognition. Vaguely, the Exorcist wondered where his friend John had wandered off to, and silently berated the other boy for not being here to stop him. "I'm...I'm..."

What could he say? What could he say that would make it alright?

Allen blinked, holding back tears again, and his eyes remained closed for a brief moment. He could feel Leo's questioning glace at his front and Komui's awaiting gaze at his back. Allen was trapped. There was no way out.

Allen crouched at Leo's eye-level, like Komui had earlier, but with a much more somber expression etched on his face.

"Could you do me a favor, Leo?" Allen asked, and the boy said nothing, but an air of affirmative gave Allen the incentive. "Would you close your eyes?" Leo complied, and the complete and total trust in his actions broke Allen's heart in two. "T-take a deep breath, Leo. Like it's your last one." He watched the boy's chest rise and fall.

Allen took a hold of the small boy's hand; the one that didn't clutch at his thin emergency blanket. It was cold.

"Goodnight, Leo."

A wisp of something white traveled up Leo Loneth's hand where Allen gripped it, like the breeze of a windy afternoon that swept you away.

Without opening his eyes again, Leo Loneth died.

Again, slow-motion set in, and the body of the blond child fell back, as cold as it should've been when the cement tube should've crashed down upon his world.

A shout brought the body of the boy to the entire site's attention-- it was John who had seen him fall. John, who had left to get them both drinks. John, who dropped two sodas on the ground as he rushed to see what was the matter. John, who gripped his friend's body by the shoulders so hard Allen could see his knuckles turn white.

Allen seemed to fade away after Leo fell, and no one again noticed him. Tears swam in his eyes, but still they didn't show on his face. He bowed his head.

It wasn't _fair_. _It wasn't fair_.

A ghostly hand slipped into his, startling the boy, and he gasped a breath of cool morning air.

"Sir?" Asked the sweet and almost-lyrical voice of Leo Loneth-- ghost-- at Allen's side. His hand was transparent against the Exorcist's. "Can I see mommy now?"

Allen choked back a sob. "Y-yeah, Leo...y-you can." He took a step forward, squeezing Leo's hand reassuringly, even though he was sure that the boy couldn't feel it.

He pulled back from the site.

The ghost of Leo hesitated at the scene of his death for a moment. "John's really sad, sir. Will you be his friend? I don't think that I can anymore."

"Y-yeah," he resolved, but he couldn't make eye-contact. "I will."

Leo smiled a ghostly smile. "Thank you."

There was a very bright light that fell from the heavens as Allen led Leo away, and Allen was reminded strongly of a shooting star, and if he had the presence of mind, he would've wished on it.

He had a lot of things that he could've wished for.

But this was Leo's star, and as it exploded into a firework-display that revealed itself to be Leo's lights, Allen could make out the delicate shape of a woman in the bright lightshow, welcoming her child into the beyond.

Leo let go of Allen's hand, and Allen reached out again to him, afraid to let go. But Leo was already disappearing into the lights.

With another bright flash, he was gone.

Salt stained Allen's cheeks now. A single drop made its way down his cheek and onto the dust-dirty ground.

-oxoxoxoxo-

The bar room was choked with the smell and taste of tobacco smoke, the hazy pale lights overhead drifting like ghosts in a thick fog. The real ghost in the room swirled his half-full glass absently, humming a song long-forgotten.

"Are you ever going to order something alcoholic-- something that's _not _water in a shot glass?" The bartender snarled, a scowl on his face as he dried an old glass mug with a rag.

"Ah, but Yu-chan," Lavi purred, staring into his glass. "That would be under-aged drinking. Serving minors, don't you know? You could be arrested."

Kanda growled dangerously, setting the mug he had been cleaning down on the water-stained counter. "I've warned you before Lavi-- _do not call me that_. And don't get started on that lawful crap. You've been dead long enough to buy a drink."

Lavi laughed. "You think? I can't seem to remember if it's been ten years or twenty." He shook his head.

"Fourteen for you, thirty-one for me."

"Ah," he paused to sip his water, and then raised his glass in mock-toast. "Kudos to you, then."

The bar was quiet except for the clashing of billiard balls as some men played pool in the corner somewhere. Absently, Kanda began to wipe the mug again, even though it was already dry.

"...you worried about the Beansprout?" Kanda asked quietly.

"Yeah. A little. He's a good kid-- Fate dealt him a bad hand."

Kanda scoffed. "If you believe in Fate. He'll be fine."

"I'm glad you're so certain," Lavi smiled up, one green eye filled with a bitter mirth.

The reaper-bartender scoffed again. "I'm always certain."

Lavi decided to down the rest of his water. "Well, que sera sera, right?" He got up to go, the barstool scraping against the hardwood floor, and started to hum again as he turned on his heels, leaving behind the smell of smoke and alcohol.

Lavi hummed again. _"Everybody wants to go to heaven, but no one wants to die..."_

-oxoxoxoxo-

Ambulance red, blue, and white danced across the dirt in the mid-morning sunshine, the cheer of the weather betraying the somber atmosphere.

The howling of sirens echoed in Allen's head. He lingered on at the site, even when Leo's soul had moved on, even when they called the ambulances to make positive it was indeed Death that they were dealing with.

"The shock," they mumbled as police took notes and white-clad hospital-workers went around. "It must've been too great for his little body..."

Perhaps they would convince themselves later that their eyes had lied to them, that the cement tube had actually crashed down on the boy like it was fated to.

It didn't matter to Allen.

For John, it did. It mattered a lot.

The boy cradled himself in the blanket previously worn by his friend, sitting on some steps out of the way, unmoving in the hustle and bustle of the halted site.

Allen couldn't leave here. Not yet. Leo's ghost might've been able to move on, but the reaper who took his soul still felt that a duty needed to be done.

Komui was behind him again. "Allen--"

Before the older man could continue, the white-haired boy interrupted him. "Komui...Give me...give me a couple of minutes. Go back without me."

Komui eyed him warily. "...Alright. Don't do anything rash. I'm sorry it...turned out this way, Allen."

Allen didn't respond. And Komui was gone.

The teenaged Exorcist wavered for a moment, conflicted. Before he knew it, Allen had sat himself on the cool gray stone, next to John.

The boy's head was buried in his knees, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs in a vain effort to stop the barrage of sound, to make it all stop, perhaps. It was something that Allen knew well.

Whether or not John even knew who he was talking to, Allen did not know. But the boy was speaking to him anyway.

"...my fault, all my fault..."

Allen's heart throbbed painfully. "I-it's not your fault, John..." It was awkward using the boy's name-- periphery meant that he wasn't supposed to make contact, let alone comfort.

John lifted his head from his knees, his cheeks tear-stained and his eyes red. "I-is!" he hiccupped defiantly. "It's all my fault-- if I hadn't...hadn't convinced him to go to Dad's site, Leo would've--! He w-

w-wouldn't have..." Tears choked his last words, and he shook with the effort that it took to stifle his sobs.

"It's not your fault, John," Allen repeated firmly, his silver eyes swimming with emotion. "It...it was an _accident_." He hoped he sounded convincing.

"No, no, _no_! If it hadn't been for me..."

Allen closed his eyes. He had made a promise, after all. "John...Leo wants you to be happy."

He shot Allen a look at this, and the Exorcist almost regretted saying it. "How would you know?"

"He..." Allen took a breath. "...he'd want you to be happy, wouldn't he?"

"Happy?" John snorted. "How can I be happy?"

"I don't know-- I'm sorry. You just...we _try._ All the time."

"I can't try anymore," John said, and his arms went around his head again, buried in his knees.

There was a moment or two of silence, filled only by the empty howls of sirens. A breeze swept through the site, picking at the dust and blowing right through Allen.

"Do you believe in Heaven, John?" Allen spoke again, unsure of what exactly he was doing. John didn't respond. "I don't...I don't really think that I do. Leo didn't...he didn't _want_ to go, he shouldn't have _had_ to go, but he didn't feel any pain, John-- I can guarantee that. I'm not going to tell you it was all part of Someone's Master Plan, because I'm not sure that I believe in that either. Leo...he can't be anything right now-- not happy, not sad, not anything. But John, if you're happy, then Leo's got to be happy, too. It's all he can be."

There was nothing again but the howl of sirens. "...He's sorry that he had to go."

"Are you..." John hiccupped, his voice muffled from his arms. "...an angel?"

Allen smiled a small smile, and his eyes hardened from the cloudy misty-fog to sharpened steel.

"No," Allen croaked, and he let his pale bangs move to cover his face. He gave a tired little chuckle. "No, I'm not."

"That's okay," John looked up, and tears once again ran down his face to drop on the cement steps.

Morning drifted along the street, the sun high enough that it peered over the skyscrapers and other tall buildings. Refracted off a dozen windows and through the dusty haze of afternoon work, the sunlight appeared less golden, and much more silvery, like the twilight sparkle of a fallen star.

"That's alright. I'm alright. And I can be _happy_. And I'm sure Leo's alright, too, where ever he is," John looked up, his face still tear-stained, but now a lop-sided grin crossed his face. "Right, Mr. Angel?"

--End. Eight.--


End file.
